In the Wheat ~ Songs in Your Presence
Passers-by would stop along the cinder path
to watch us at our spirited football games
but no one knew that we were playing for You
with such torrid fervor
as if to woo You over.
Are those fatherly trees
still standing around the baseball field
spreading their branches
over the benches
where we sat between innings
being tempted to forsake You
for the bright lights and the big-league
Now I know You were moved
on seeing hungry boys
standing patiently at tables
with folded arms
waiting to say
their distracted grace hastily.
Sometimes while kneeling
I would run a finger
over the soft stubble at my ear
or glance at the hairs on my hand
and wonder what that meant.