In the cradle of dawn, when the world is hushed,
Fields awaken, kissed by the amber light,
Whispers of the wind weave through the crops,
A farmer’s dream, painted in earth’s delight.

Hands, calloused yet gentle, sow the seeds,
Beneath a sky that promises growth and grace,
Each furrow a testament to hope’s embrace,
In every drop of sweat, the heart’s beats.

Golden waves of grain dance to the tune,
Of summer’s song, in a rhythm so pure,
The land and its keeper, a bond secure,
Harvest’s promise, under the silver moon.

As twilight descends, shadows stretch and play,
Fields rest, under the vigil of stars,
Dreams of tomorrow, near yet so far,
In the silence, the farmer’s prayers lay.