Beneath the golden sun, the fields awake,
Whispers of morning dew on leaf and blade,
The farmer’s heart in every seed they stake,
A promise of life within the earth is laid.

Seasons weave their tapestry in grace,
The gentle rain, the fervent winds that blow,
Each furrow tells a story, every trace,
Of hands that toil and dreams that slowly grow.

The silent dance of moonlit crops at night,
Stars above bear witness to the toil,
In shadows deep, the farmer finds a light,
A connection to the land, a bond with soil.

Harvest comes with gratitude and song,
The cycle ends, yet starts anew with spring,
In fields where hope and labor both belong,
The farmer’s legacy, a timeless ring.