Where sun meets soil, the tale begins,
Of calloused hands and quiet wins.
The plow’s slow rhythm, the earth’s embrace,
A farmer’s hymn in time and space.
The corn grows tall, a golden sea,
Bowing to wind’s soft melody.
Each stalk a promise, each field a vow,
The fruit of sweat, the labor of now.
......
Where sun meets soil, the tale begins,
Of calloused hands and quiet wins.
The plow’s slow rhythm, the earth’s embrace,
A farmer’s hymn in time and space.
The corn grows tall, a golden sea,
Bowing to wind’s soft melody.
Each stalk a promise, each field a vow,
The fruit of sweat, the labor of now.
......