In the quiet dawn, he rises with the sun,
Hands calloused, heart full of dreams yet spun.
The earth his canvas, the plow his brush,
Painting stories in the soil with gentle hush.

Beneath the sky, his labor sings a tune,
Each seed a promise, each sprout a boon.
Through storms and droughts, he stands tall and brave,
A guardian of the land, his soul to save.

The seasons change, yet his spirit remains,
Dancing with the wind, through joys and pains.
The harvest moon reflects his toil,
A testament to his love for the fertile soil.

As night descends, and stars adorn the sky,
He dreams of greener pastures, where hopes never die.
In every leaf and grain, his legacy endures,
The farmer’s eternal dance, pure and assured.