The Invisibles Poem by Santosh Bakaya

The first ray of sunshine morphs into the last ray
Every day from day to day
The world moves on
From dawn to dawn.
The birds twitter, unfazed,
Whether the day is sour or bitter.
Before one can bat an eyelid,
One more day vaults into the saddle
And gallops away.
The bats begin to flit from tree to tree.
A peasant lags homeward from his labour
Humming a tired song.

Trees whisper like judgmental folks
Inadvertently, poking away his wrinkles.
The peasant smiles; hope flickers, like a firefly bright.
What is for dinner tonight?
He wonders, licking his tired lips
But assailed by lots of thoughts.
Will the loans be waivered?
Will there be a bumper harvest, a drought or a flood?
Alas, he blunders and trips into smothering mud
With a thud unheard.
And becomes invisible
Yet again.