I
Mist rises first
Before the sun, before the first chore, it climbs out of the earth. It moves down the rows without touching them, and by the time there is light enough to work, it is gone.
II
Everything drinks here
The water came first; the farm arranged itself around it. Every row, every tree, every animal on this land sits at the end of a line that starts in this pond — and none of them draws alone.
III
The stained-glass hour
Late in the day the light stops falling on the leaves and starts passing through them. The tools go quiet, the rows glow from the inside, and for a few minutes the whole farm is a window.
IV
The night shift
When the sun leaves, the farm does not sleep: it changes shifts. The air cools, the mist returns low to the ground, everything that was green becomes silhouette — and one window keeps working.
V
Stay a moment
This land is older than whoever is looking at it, and it will still be here after. Standing in it for a moment is the whole of it — the work keeps until morning.
Worlds like this are what we build.
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