Growing, Selling


The field flows with

silken golden-brown crop

of wheat, the gentle breeze

commanding directions.

Similarly, the packets of

freshly manufactured

cookies roll over the

conveyor belts, delicately.

Neither of the movements

reflecting the discomfort

of ungainly maintenance

and compensations.


2 thoughts on “Growing, Selling

Add yours

    1. Hey! Thanks for stopping by and commenting. I’m glad you found it an interesting read. 🙂

      Exactly, I was thinking along the lines of labour. How come the compensations aren’t commensurate with the industry of manufacturing food items? In the same vein, perhaps more importantly, falls the question of farmers.

      This poem was inspired by all the youtube videos I’ve been watching about the current agrarian crisis in my country, India.

      Liked by 1 person

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