Paddy fields sway in the wind like emerald sea
as if bowing to the glory of Thee
small birds hop about happy to be
alive on this day

the fields would surely be bare in a few days
as scythes reap, harvest would go a long way
on each farmers face a smile would stay
well earned happy plight

The harvest moon is beatific with bright light
views the fruits of labour with delight
soon he would wane his silvery light
and be on his way

all would thank almighty for this divine scheme
of loading lunar lights with extra gleam
for days it shone to fulfil the dream
of bountiful heights