A Jaunt

A drive to the plantations  
I see my trees  looking robust
shimmering with a greenish hue

Part of the area, takes the cue
 from  the play schools, hosting
two year old. toddlers

jostling in the air
expressing a sweetness

Crossing them, I behold
 the fruits  with gold coats
 a tinge of black  runs in between

lie in heaps, shining
as the sun’s rays penetrate
 with a vengeance.

Walking along with
the harvesters, they smile
 I nod, language problem

at its height,  but we carry on
articulating gestures,  emojis as   popularly
known,  fairly better than dialogue.

A jaunt I prefer,  evocative of life
as against the hum drumming
of machines with their  mechanism.
I hear.