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The scenery we are loosing slowly from the rural world where man is an integral part of the sorroundings- the fading scenes of the farming culture

Withering Scenery

642b19305dd70ac11ef83974953d5dc2by Madhusoodhanan23 Mar 2015

When the shades in daylight dwarfed
Men perspired, beasts ran to cool
Their throats and heels,the wind
Paced restless here and there
Unable to bear the burning beams.
Under the scorching sun
The yeoman with his plough
Carves burrows in exquisite fashion....
The trickling sweat from his stony frame
Shall perhaps help a few seeds to sprout
Or sometimes stir even Jupiter
To take arms against the evasive clouds
Forcing them to weep, and help
The high-heavens to inhale the scent of earth
Ere the son of soil moves in
To have his share.
To him the best of Arabian musk
When rated against this scent of earth
Is like glow-worms mimicking stars.
The smears on his trunk are the lucky warts
Bequeathed by the antiquity in honour
Though often piqued
By the muslin-clad cocktails
Lurking in voluptuous mows and petty jokes...
The throbs of soil,murmers of passing wind,
Hootings of birds, crackling laughs of crystal streams
Or the sliding cresendo of the sky
Escape not unnoticed
From his rigorous views...
For, they are his calendars par excellence
Nature bestowed,as a reward
For his un-faultered sincerety.