It is a sensation, one of a reward
a visit to the lands
after a break
seeing the greenery,
the tall trees,
huge fruits on the ground
harvested a few minutes back.
To hear the sound a thud,
a fall, from heights
when few red berries
shatter with a gleam,
.
Going behind the harvester
watch him pull the fruits
with a focus, a vigorous tug to the fruit
accompanied by a jerk makes
the fruit, enormous in size
tumble down. The pickers
stack them in a wheel barrow
take them to the driveways .
A skilled worker hauls with a spear
like implement, loads them
into the lorry. Off they go
to the Palm Oil Mills.
It is a day, well spent.
While being in the plantations
my bad knees behave good
as I walk through the trees
without any pain, stand
throughout the hours
supervising the harvest,
perhaps they understand
my passion.
Work is God to me.
Meenas Poems 