with the sweet groaning of the mammoth bodies,
by nupur singhal
morning began its pleasurable phase..
the sun out, from its hideout,
beyond the arid mountains there...
all sleepy heads, pick up their buckets,
and gather around those, that were of different hues...
commotion filling the shed,
all boys milking them to their best..
those eyes of the utmost innocense,
the holy mother, their devotion...
gathered, stacks of hay,
chunks of the dung lying astray..
milking done, supplies taken care of,
it's time in the heat, to take them on the way..
lying in the stagnant waters,
life, alike peacefull, let's pray...
the cooling done, the helpers fed,
they are gathered and moved to their shed..
the dung collected, on the concierge'z call..
and stuck a ninety on the rickety wall..
the evening comes, the sun takes a turn,
it's time for it to return, and the horizon starts to burn...
the boys set the shed,
its the bodies' time to rest...
the bodies dream, dreaming unknown,
the atmosphere all calm, the simplicity shown..
unknown of the complicated worldy vows,
they are our motherly cows...