Winter wheat springs forth like a miracle
From the barren ground with powers mystical
Stalks raised high proud and tall
Dance in the storm and having a ball
Under the ashen gloomy sky
Blades of green shake and say “Hi”
To the sun above playing hide and seek
Casting muted rays while feigning meek
Then arrived the joys of spring
The warmth of sun and sprinkling rain
A bumper harvest the West Wind brings
As gold stalks put on crowns of grain
The Garden of Words Not Yet Born 