When Rice Grains Turn Golden Poem by Manonton Dalan

i can feel mud between my toes
squirting like toothpaste tube
as i bend to cut rice stalks
there were frogs that jump away
mud fishes that splashes my way
my dog chase them relentlessly

straw hat keep me from sun burn
northerly wind keeps on coming
not enough to cool-off my sweat
beneath a tree, a strumming guitar,
singing to keep us going for awhile
some are preparing lunch; not far

i can see few yards more to go
i look back hundreds of bundles
neatly filed like soldiers in prone
i feel satisfaction for my work
that i forget meaning of being tired
for few bags of rice; i toiled alright