In fields of gold where whispers sing,
The harvest moon begins to rise,
With every breeze that gently swings,
A dance of grain beneath the skies.

The hands that toil from dawn till dusk,
In sunlit sweat and shadows deep,
They gather dreams in every husk,
In silent vows, their secrets keep.

The earth bestows its golden yield,
A promise kept through seasons past,
Life’s cycle in the open field,
Where hope and labor hold steadfast.

As twilight casts its gentle glow,
The harvest songs in echoes blend,
In unity, the heartbeats flow,
Till fields of gold embrace the end.