General

The ploughed field was our harvest prayer, our hope of a good season to come.

General

He would plough the crest of the field dreaming of the wheat that would wave in the heart of the summer season.

General

The ploughed field amid the green was a sweet chocolate square.

General

The combed earth was all ready for the green of spring.

General

We tuck the seed into the brown so that they may dream themselves good deep roots and reach toward the sun.