The motionless hours

The golden fields sway to the music
the winds are playing since morning today
Birds tiptoeing around chirpily
Sometimes mouth full of hay

The lazy sunshine as if craving for siesta
I, under the tree, sated after a heavy meal
Killing the afternoon with bouts of sleep
While the breeze gently caresses my feet

The sun may set in some time
The evening would commence its game
As I stare at the horizon unperturbed
If my gaze could freeze the frame

A bivouac of ants pass by me
They look agile to my languorous spine
The sweet smell of grass pleasures me
And the motionless hours just feel divine