The hands that have sown

In fields of earth, where seeds are sown,
Lie tales untold of hands alone.
With calloused palms and fingers worn,
They weave the threads of dusk 'til morn.

In furrows deep, their hopes they cast,
With every prayer, a future vast.
Through sunlit days and moonlit nights,
They toil away 'neath heaven's lights.

The hands that plow, the hands that sow,
In humble grace, their bounty grow.
They nurture life with tender care,
Amidst the soil, their love they share.

Through seasons' dance, they never tire,
Their labor fuels the heart's desire.
For in their touch, the earth's reborn,
The hands that sow, the hands adorn.

So let us honor, let us praise,
The hands that shape our earthly days.
For in their touch, we find our own,
In fields of hope, the seeds are sown.