The Valley

In a bus,

I look out of the windows,

into a valley

where the paddy grows.

Dusky clouds glide across the sky,

kissing the hills standing high.

A kiss of passion, a kiss of love

the kiss so tender and pure as dove.

It looks so beautiful,

it looks so green

with a river flowing by

calm and serene.

Sitting on the bank

watches the good old tree

cattle grazing nearby

lazy and free.

I see no human but

there are few huts

the colour of those matches

the brown earth seen in patches.

In a bus

I look out of the windows,

into a valley

where the paddy grows.