I said the wheat is waiting for fall,
You burst out laughing,
I must have never seen wheat before.
It’s already ripe by summer.
You surely have winter wheat growing near you.
People sow it in fall,
And harvest in summer.
You saw it with your own eyes,
How could you be mistaken?
You laugh at me because you’ve seen winter wheat.
But I’ve looked at the spring wheat north of the Great Wall.
I remember when you were young,
With bright eyes
And a piercing gaze,
Seeing straight from a snail’s eyestalks
To the ends of the galaxy.
You were full of wonder,
Loving the worlds beyond this one.
Who knew you’d end up like this,
Yet failing to wonder for a moment
If there might be another kind of wheat.
Another Kind of Wheat | Poetry is a story from our issue, “Promised Land.” To read the entire issue, become a subscriber and receive the full magazine. Alternatively, you can purchase the digital version from the App Store.