Harvesting:

Sun, 06/09/2019 - 12:05 -- ngopes

They wake up to the sound of cock
as the morning light pours in
through the chink in the balcony
leaving a lace like pattern on the floor.

They walk through the fields as the
loose wet blades of grass brush against 
their legs. Soon, they arrive on the fields 
with their sickles draped on their waist.

The land is filled with paddy. 
Its stalk bent with the weight of its grain.
The sheaf of stalk lay on the face
of the fields left to dry until they get stacked.

At dusk, they return home with
sheaves of grass on their back 
rusty sickles on their waist and
the pigeon for the pot.

They sit on the edge of the balcony with 
beads of sweat falling from their foreheads
patch of sweat under their armpits, waiting
for fresh water in the clay pot.

 

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741