Workers Of Our Land Poem by Anil Kumar Panda

At a distance sky the cloud cracked
To seep rain and wash the pointed hills
The thin wind came to stay over the fields
And the workers gathered at the gate of the mills

Chatting, smoking, drinking tea they
Waited for their shifts to start and call
With boots, coats, scarves and mufflers
They enjoyed their works not at all feeling dull

They are the native men of the soil
Hard work and honesty are their traits
They live in huts scattered across the valley
With simplicity and love they write their fates