Undated Ramblings - Lonar

We rode through fog and cloggy shower rains
(my brain wobbly on two hours of sleep)
on cobbly, potholed, dusty interior roads
to see a full moon glinting
on the briny-watered crater bottom
and drink Old Monk from a quarter bottle
and talk of night-riding and cornering.

I rode slow on the edge
and then walked on my heels down into the Crater's belly
collecting Goa Guthka (sic) packets
to reach one of Lonar's 13 temples
where squirrels officiate and Parakreets preside
to gaze over the silent, emerald green waters.

I puffed my way back, up
out of breath, bloody lunged
and then posed for a mounted picture
looking over the briny depths,
the plantain groves,
the dry, scrubbed basaltic rock
of India's largest meteoritic crater
and then we rode out to Pitalkhora
(and poetry from times not so past).