Passing Through The Dusk Poem by Ruta Mohapatra

A winter evening approaching
On a road through rice fields passing
A round yellow sun
On the horizon setting

Cut rice plants, laden with rice
On some fields lying
Standing rice crops
On some fields swaying

Like a low floating cloud
White fog on the fields moving
Solitary trees between the fields
From green to black turning

The rows of hills in the distance
Also from green to black turning
The fog slowly thickening
The trees and hills vanishing

The night slowly descending
Street lights in the dark glowing
In their halos flies buzzing
From the fields frogs and toads croaking

With the sun gone
The air slowly cooling
Towards the city our little car speeding
My warm cosy home in the city beckoning