pollution poems

The skies up water
rains smother
winter’s smog
is like the dreary
fog.
Umbrella in hand
I search for rains
the city is smog-smeared
warnings all around
I entered to see people
swirling in mists of the sun.
Where is the smog I asked?
Someone said, “Like people,
the smog is also wearing
a hooded mask”.