The weather was the worst kind, with a wind, rain, slush, and cold, all a good reason to stay back. I came upon a poem of the past. Here it is:
IN THE COURSE OF A DAY
the morning
I heard a pandit speaking, highlighting dying
Then received a call of a sick man in bed lying
How many days in life can we actually count?
How much karma can one person mount
Before he moves on to the greener field
After the gloom-ridden body can be finally peeled?
by afternoon