The sun grand at its glow….making simmers….down at the downest plains….beside the hillside…a motion of mushroom pickers…. <br />Light shovels in their hands….a cane-basket tied at their backs…eyes tilted beneath…always….towards the soil…..sometimes slithers…at the glare of mushroom pickers…. <br />Where the hill slackens….a little curved…and the woods began….thick and thicker….dense to denser…with the sway of mushroom pickers… <br />Their bodies are bendable….like the green climbers…easy to low down….asking for mercy….but could uproot deftly….the edible fungal growth….may be egg-white…or a little pinker….at a single touch from the mushroom picker… <br />Before the sundown…their legs turned homewards…thank the soil and the sky…..for their toil and search…..even if their baskets are unbulky…inglorious to a farmer….though they welcome the next sun…to the wait of the mushroom picker..<br /><br />amitav mazumdar<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mushroom-pickers/
