Beneath the full moon's gentle light, In fields of wheat, a wondrous sight, Men, like Krishna, dressed in white, With turbans tied, they dance so bright.
Beside them, labor girls in rows, As Gopis in the moon's soft glow, With sickle and wheat, their hands do sway, In harmony, they sweat and toil away.
No earthen pots are seen upon their frame, No Meera's songs heard but hearts aflame, Yet, Krishna's spirit is seen in their stride, They labor hard, toil and sweat side by side.
These Krishnas, toiling day by day, In fields where they earn their pay, They sow and reap, their work is clear, Providing us food we hold so dear.
But Bajra and onion, their humble fare, While wheat for us they toil and bear, From bread to pizza, it's their toil we see, These Krishnas gift their harvest with glee.
Gopis the farm girls, embracing the field, No pots on their waists, but strength revealed, With sarees tied around their tiny waist, In toil and sweat, they keep their pace.
The Krishna we worship, words he may teach, But these Krishnas in fields, their actions preach, Let's honor them for the toils they bring, The Practicing Krishnas, our hearts do sing.
In their labor, they sow our daily bread, With each harvest, our tables are spread, In the moon's embrace, they play their part, These Krishnas of the field, with love in heart.
~ Dr Intaj Malek
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