The sun pokes its face.
Through the gray haze
From the rough top
I sit in my own peace.

Morning over Ahmedabad
Above the sandalwood trees
The feeling that is only found in dreams

The baritone call of a waking bull
The buzz of a motorcycle passing by
In the market debates of the price of dates
The clinking of the spoon stirring the mornings' chi

Morning over Ahmedabad
It is much more than a place.
It is a feeling that is beyond meaning.

Many smells masked by burning trash.
A pail of soapy water smacks on the street bellow.
The thin lines of smoke from burning incense 
In this experience, time does not exist.

Morning over Ahmedabad
No other place like this

 © Copyright Thomas Dooley 2017