Green fields turn to gold September blue skies above Clouds play hide and seek What a sight to behold.
The brilliant sun and soaring clouds That seem to wander and roam, Casting intermittent shadows Over every field, river, hill and home.
It’s time for the farmers to cheer The quenched fields so calm As harvest time Is finally here
Joy and anxiety on the farmer’s face abound Ever so cheerful and eager It’s time now to savour The harvest of his labour.
Migrant workers with sickles in their hand he sees As they as walk along the main street He hires them for a day’s services To cut the paddy stalks in the fields.
September mid-day sun high above Neatly piled stalks of paddy slowly take shape Forming a perfectly aligned crest Its peculiar aroma is in the air As the workers pause for a little rest.
Hot lunch to the workers the farmer brings Of rice, curry and fried fish And no sooner they have happily eaten Back to work with their sickles in hand they return.
When evening falls over my ancestral land And coconut trees cast long shadows Over the fields that were once so green Now a giant circular pile of stalks of paddy In the centre of the field awaits the farmer For threshing into grains of rice some days later.
© Tony Fernandes – From a collection of poems “Nostalgia of my Homeland”
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