In The Way Of Grain Poem by J. Barrett Wolf

I do not know how to love in the way of grain.
The way wheat moans before a south wind,
anticipating crosscurrents, bowing without wonder,
reflecting the echoed shadow of oceans.

I do not know how to love the way white birds
caress updrafts beneath cliffs
calmly waiting to carry and be carried
to parapets of rest.

I do not know how to love in the way of trees.
Swallowing sun and bearing green children
held up for damp approval to each foolish April rain.

I do not know how to love in the way of fire
consuming air, consumed by water, like none other,
expressing heat and light, the illusion of safety,
the illusion of control.

I do not know how to love, but in this one way -
as a man; foolish, tired, alive
Willing to offer and accept.
Knowing there is a way to love —
like grain, white birds, trees and fire.