It's six in the biting cold dawn, 

Detrimental sight peep through 

Milky shades, though unfazed. 

Fog- Nature's garnishing trait, 

Fallen prey to evil eye?

Whatever nomenclatures -mist, smog or haze. 

Lichens have already raised the warning bell,

Every yesterday is adulterating to day and today. 

Exaggerated olfaction isn't the need, 

A resistive nose can still taste it. 

Essence it has now of fireworks, 

Whiter fog, not that white to illuminate. 

Seems like the confluence, one not beneficial. 

Though, we still can mitigate.

Still many sleeping, its knocks for now,

It's knock for now...