Mirth Poem by Anil Kumar Panda

The wind of morn knocked on the door
The bird has come out from its nest
To hop in search of worms on grassy floor

A leaf has fallen gently bearing the dew
Singing a song in whispering tone
A stream has captured the sky's golden hue

Air is getting filled with a soft fragrance
As buds open up to morning light
They swing on stalks in a mesmeric dance

From far end of the field comes the sound
Of a flute being played by shepherd
When after nights rest men are field bound

Slowly the world slips out from the dark
Clouds of dust hang over the steps as
Womenfolk get ready to take up days work