A scarecrow in the middle of the field,
Rivulets slipping down the hills
Naiive cattles with ringing bells,
A lonely bird on the bare tree tells,
The story of this farm wee bit old,
In every grain,kept and sold.
Morn full of beams of sun
Where leaves shines and birds run,
To flaunt around and make up a show,
Where flowers smile all in a row.
Billowing crops in the air so light,
Call for a haven,just so right.
Tall palm trees at the foot of the hill.
Orchids of mango trees stand stll.
Buttery stones with all sizes big,
Some smiling faces, some shapes antique.
Soil that smells of you and me
And the hills and the sky and the crops and the tree.
Green meadow to dance and play
And rest on the heights and folds of hay,
Under the sky, wide and dark
With pools and palms of twinkling stars.
How am I blessed to have these eyes
To see all nature where heaven lies.
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