In dawn’s first light, the fields awake,
Golden grains sway, a silent lake.
The farmer’s hands, with tender care,
Tend the earth, a bond so rare.

Rows of green, a living art,
Each seed planted, a hopeful start.
The sun and soil, in perfect rhyme,
Nourish dreams across the time.

The whispering winds, the rustling leaves,
Tell stories of harvest and summer’s eves.
The farmer’s heart, with patience filled,
Awaits the bounty, the fields have willed.

As twilight falls, the cycle ends,
Yet nature’s promise, it always sends.
The fields will rest, but not for long,
For life and growth, they sing a song.