Crows in the wheat fields

Amidst the golden expanse, a dance,
Wheat fields sway in a sunlit trance.
Crows, like shadows, weave their tale,
In the golden spectacle, they set sail.

Oh, the wheat, the wheat, bathed in sunlight's glow,
In the gentle breeze, they ebb and flow.
Crows descend, a black cascade,
In the golden fields, a contrast is made.

The wheat whispers secrets, old and new,
Under the watchful sky, so blue.
And amidst this spectacle, the crows reside,
In the golden wheat fields, they confide.

Their black feathers, against the gold,
A sight to behold, a story to be told.
A spectacle of life, in the light of the day,
In the golden wheat fields, they hold sway.

Oh, the wheat, the wheat, in the sunlight they play,
A golden sea, in the light of the day.
In the golden expanse, the crows dive,
In the golden wheat fields, they come alive.