on digging potatoes with my son

a small poem

Summer here has been like Spring

and when we dug the earth for them,

was hard to tell where spuds would end

and where his digging toes began

 

a thrill to burrow in the soil

making play out of work

it’s off with burden, off with shirt

(gleaning from the ground don’t hurt)

 

into barrow toss the tubers

two is one, yet pound for pound

we bring them up then bend back down -

    and where his digging toes began

    perhaps was planted yet the man…

 

Reviews

[Relic]

There's always a lesson lurking in work, even if it's really play. I love the ending.

[Beccy]

'A small poem', only in the number of its lines, what it conveys is beyond measure.

Beccy.

So glad I found your poetry.

[Dean]

I love the twists such as you make available here. You might want to give us a little more incentive for it in this one.

[charlie]

Just a postcard is all

[Dara]

Wonderful imagery and symbolism here. I could almost feel the earth come up between my toes :-)

[charlie]

Hah nice! Thank you for your reading, Dara.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

love the allegory here of youth turning to manhood...the toes go in first, as we slowly dig toward maturity...
and i also like the idea of work being like play---i relate being a teacher...to me it is play not work---and i get paid for it!

[charlie]

It's very fortunate to do what you love.

[RomaJ]

Another masterpiece. Makes me smile, brings up memories of gardening with my children.

[charlie]

Rewarding in more ways than one, isn't it... Thanks for reading, Roma