In the heart of dawn, where whispers start,
The farmer wakes to play his part.
With hands that nurture, soil and seed,
He fosters life’s unending creed.
The sun ascends, a golden arc,
It warms the fields, ignites a spark.
Green tendrils rise, a verdant sea,
A testament to his decree.
Through seasons’ dance, both harsh and kind,
He toils with steadfast heart and mind.
Each furrow plowed, each crop he tends,
A legacy that never ends.
As twilight falls, his labor done,
He gazes at the setting sun.
In every leaf, in every grain,
The farmer’s spirit will remain.