In the fields, they toil, With sun on their backs, The women of the earth Tend to their precious crops.

Their hands are calloused, Their faces marked by time, But their spirits are unbroken, Their devotion to the land divine.

They are the matriarchs of the harvest, The keepers of nature's bounty, With wisdom passed down through generations, And love for the earth, unbounded.

As they sort and chop, The vegetables they've grown, Their work is a testament To the seeds they've sown.

So let us honor these women, Whose hard work never ends, For they are the heart and soul Of the harvest, my friends.