Never Is an Awfully Long Time

(with a nod to J.M. Barrie)

I have never
smelled the wheat
asleep
in its twilit field—
nor will I ever.
But I imagine it
to be the heady sweetness
of the slow-limbed languor
of the stalk
that bides its time
with dreams and visions
until the thresher,
blades polished by purpose,
wakes it
to its destiny.