Joy is the fruit blossomed in the heart of the farmer
His smiles are meshed with the days toil and sweat
Patches of brown earth possess a part of his tired face
On his shoulders he carries a huge basket with some tools
And now it is harvest time…
Now the fields are ripe, the mangoes are heavy with fruits
Birds sing from the tree tops, monkeys dance to their muse
Below the evergreen forest, the farmers find their way
Pathing thru thick mist and grass, old animal dung and dew
The morning was cool, once the path reached the stream side
The farmers stooped to have a handful taste of the waters
The taste is clayey, the scent like a patch of dust with water
The path lead the farmers into the deeper forests now
The shrubs become scanty, the trees more numerous
And all about dew sail off tree leaves, bouncing into balls
Thriving bird colonies, Natures own secret fine hive
The bamboo forest stood close by, taunting the farmers as they went
Waterfalls let water drops fall and bounce off rocks
Once they arrived the plantation, the work began
And with it, went with countryside music-
And when they sang, they sang of places, far far away
Where the wheat fields are yellow, the cow milk tasteful
They whistle songs and hum when they were tired of songs
At last, the harvest became a pile waiting to go home
