Wheat Plants

Like soft green grasses we have grown, Less than halve we have our self shown; Our heads happily swaying in the air, Physique painting fields in green color; At the irrigation of the poor farmer, We bloom a smile brim-filling in splendor; Thanking him for tending us, Feeding us; freeing us from clutches; Like school-going children we sway, Feeling free; yet we carefully keep away; From sadness of the past and present, Smiling and swaying and waving around; Let sun shine hard or the moon soft, Let the fog fall thick or snow shower oft; Let untimely rain our naked body wet, Let dewdrops in secret our shabbiness set; Termites, aphid, weevil, beetle and moths, Like social enemies let our cells swath; Storms or tempests or hurricanes severe, Let blow hard on us as though many a spear; Goats graze on us; cows and buffalo too, Blue bulls, let, bring the worst of woe; We’ll be never shaken or feel forsaken, As our roots, in the mother earth, are waken; Our convictions, like our roots, are firm, To feed the farmer and his home kingdom; Where his kids, like us, are growing, And, like us, in joy and sadness glowing; And to the wide world where the hungry, Are waiting for grains to live poverty-free... 07 December 2021