Mirth

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