Gravel path passes through the paddy filed,
Watercourse flows under the dilapidated culvert.
Aqueduct stood on the right side.
Tread wheel lay idle on the other side.
Small fishes dabble in the watercourse.
Bullock carts are heading for home.
Laundry man sat at the back of the cart.
Shepherd leads his sheep behind it.
The old Bedford emerged from the quarry,
With labourers on top of the granite,
Sped through the gravel path,
Spreading fumes and dust.
Horizon turned read.
Spike of paddy dancing in the gentle breeze.
Birds travel east to rest in their nest.
Women, firewood on their head, walk like caravan.
The grand bungalow over looking the rubber plantation,
Pathway to the bungalow looks like a snake.
I sat on the culvert.
Watching the beauty of my village.