A bead of sweat
Hangs on his brow
Unable to resist
Drops to join the tar road
He is happy in his toil
The toil is his only god
He doesn't notice
The wetness he creates
In his wake the ground
Moistens in tiny circles
Circles that slowly join
Hands and push back
Trees that slowly get
Burdened by fruits that
Drop to ground one by one
Eaten by ant, rabbit and man
He notices nothing
He is happy in his toil
The toil is his ecstasy
The toil is his only god
-
Chandni Girija
Day 23 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo #napowrimo2022
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