Upon the fertile earth, seeds were sown with care,
And wheat grew tall with each passing year,
Under the sun's warm embrace, they did bear
Golden ears, ripe and ready for the mill so near.

Transformed by the hands of skilled bakers true,
The grain ground to flour, fine and pure,
Mixed with water, salt, and yeast, they knew
In the oven, it would rise and endure.

From the kneading and shaping, bread took form,
A staple of life, sustenance for all,
Nourishing our bodies through calm and storm,
A simple miracle, humble yet so tall.

So let us give thanks for this gift of grain,
Sown, harvested, baked, to nourish again.

Tomaž Jevšenak