`



He hunched with sweat-drenched brow
his sickle lay beside uncut stalks
the insects droned toward blood
that trickled from the web of his hand
He quickly wrapped the wound -


Throughout the day he worked
the scent of ripened rice filled the air
against the threat of early rains
to gather and thresh the golden grain
Dreamless sleep his reward -

The sun shone low in the sky
the field now a barber's Number-2
the sound of children's play lit the air
smoke of the evening meal met the clouds
A cold drink soothes his hands



`

Ricky 'Freds' Kesner

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/harvest-bintuan-rice-fields/