In the quiet earth they sleep, dreams wrapped in husks,
Beneath the gaze of the sun, in shadows they trust.
A whisper of wind, a touch of rain,
In the cradle of time, they awaken again.

Through winter’s chill, they bide their time,
Wrapped in patience, a silent rhyme.
Each seed a vessel, of stories untold,
Waiting for spring, to break the mold.

The tender shoot, it seeks the light,
Through layers of soil, a courageous fight.
A dance with the breeze, a sway with the sun,
The journey of seeds has just begun.

In fields of gold, in forests deep,
They stand as giants, where once they did sleep.
A symphony of growth, a testament to strife,
From silent whispers, springs the promise of life.