Paddy Fields Of Bengal Poem by Santanu Banerjee

Beneath the golden glow of setting sun,
The swaying stalks of paddy softly hum.
In endless waves, they whisper, 'Day is done, '
As nightbirds call, and dusk begins to drum.

The breeze that kisses fields is calm and sweet,
It sweeps the green like currents in a stream.
Each blade a gleaming thread in fading light,
A woven dance of life in nature's dream.

The earth below, a womb for seeds to grow,
Her quiet hands uplift the thriving grain.
Through toil and time, the harvest soon will show,
That all we seek is found in sun and rain.

The field reflects the cycle we obey
To live, to bend, and rise another day.