Time For Harvesting Poem by Anil Kumar Panda

It is the season of harvesting
And they move to the fields
Early in the morning
When the sun has not yet appeared
And the mist still hangs low
Over the slender path
Grasses are grown thick at sides
Tiny wild flowers play with dew drops
Now it will be song and dance
While bending and cutting and binding
And gossiping about upcoming festivals
New clothes and delicious foods
There will fun and enjoyment
And the men folks will rush to bazaar
Crops loaded in bullock carts
It will be a whole day affair
And when the sun goes down
They will be back
Sweating and feeling hungry
Sound of bells piece through
Still air of the village
And the women folks run inside homes
To light the evening lamps