The Muddy Paddy Field

We we're busy, running hither and thither in the paddy field like "disturbed ants". 

The marshy soil soaked our legs, yet our faces are warm with joy. 

Our legs are struggling to balance the wet soil, yet it seems like a guided dance.

The cold wind hit us like "fast-moving merciless train", but we forgive it with our kind hearts.

We ran chasing each other, but there were no rules in the game except no one should push others down.

For our mothers won't spare us for muddy clothes.

Some went to catch fish in the water channels. Few others for searching shells in the mud. 

The setting sun alarmed a fear on our hearts to return home soon, with shells in little pocket and fishes in the water bottles.