From across the lush fields you bore
Fruit – no, seed, that washed ashore
Millions of long stalks it tore
Through the way, and asked for more.
Neither scare nor crow beware
A husky dawn, no grand affair
While eons pass, but we forswear
An inkling of any loose fanfare.
So we sit at the paddy mills agape
Gruel grueling in the hot seascape
Watching the glutinous beads take shape
Knowing for us nor them, there’s any escape.
Decided to write about part of the life of, well, rice.
It’s obviously a staple in our kitchens and everyday diets, but it’s just nice to remember things that our brains have been trained to take for granted after some time.
If you’re reading this, A, thank you for the prompt. ❤
so far, so adulthood 