In the quiet embrace of morning’s light,
A farmer wakes with dreams of golden fields,
The earth awaits beneath the fading night,
With secrets only gentle hands can yield.

He walks the rows where seeds of hope are sown,
Each step a testament to labor’s grace,
The sun bears witness to the toil he’s known,
Etched in the lines upon his weathered face.

The whispering winds through ancient trees,
Carry stories of harvests long and true,
In every rustle, in every breeze,
The farmer finds a world forever new.

As twilight paints the sky in hues of rest,
He stands amidst the bounty he has grown,
With gratitude that fills his humble chest,
For the land, the life, the love he’s known.