In fields where whispers of the wind do play,
The golden grains sway in rhythmic delight,
Beneath the sun’s warm and gentle ray,
A tapestry woven in autumn’s light.

The farmer’s hands, calloused and true,
Gather the fruits of labor and time,
With every seed sown, a hope anew,
In the harvest’s song, a harmonious chime.

Shadows grow long as the days retreat,
The earth lays bare its generous heart,
In baskets full, the season’s sweet treat,
A testament to nature’s intricate art.

As evening falls, the fields softly rest,
Under the watch of a silvery moon,
Grateful hearts find solace and zest,
In the harvest’s embrace, a timeless tune.