Beneath the golden sun, they toil and strive,
From dawn’s first light until the quiet night,
With weathered hands and dreams that drive,
They nurture life, unseen, out of sight.

The earth they till, a canvas vast and wide,
Each seed they plant, a promise for tomorrow,
Through drought and rain, they stand with pride,
Their hearts resilient, immune to sorrow.

In fields of green, where whispers grow,
They weave the threads of nature’s song,
With every harvest, their spirits glow,
A testament to a life lived strong.

Though silent in their daily quest,
Their work, a story, etched in land,
The farmers, ever giving of their best,
The lifeblood of this fertile strand.