Posts Tagged ‘potato’

There is no way to know

what we’ll find beneath

the yellowing leaves.

And always I forget

which varieties I’ve planted

and where. And so, when

the Finnish fingerlings appear

just below the surface,

I thrill in their golden

skin and knobby shapes,

and when the dark purple

potatoes emerge from the depths

of the garden bed,

by then, I am already kneeling,

but something inside kneels, too—

oh the russet and red-skinned

and pink-fleshed miracle of it all,

the sheer delight

of running my fingers

through the dirt and

pulling out potatoes,

each one somehow

a surprise, a small reminder

of how beautifully

the world can work,

how the darkness

nourishes such incredible

gifts. Ten hours since

I left the garden, and

whatever inside me knew to kneel

is still enthralled in prayer.

Read Full Post »

Digging In

There’s no way to know
before the spade has opened the earth
what we might find below.
By this time, I forget
what varieties I have planted,
Sangria or Russian Blue
or Russet or Yellow Fingerling,
forget what to expect there,
a still growing revelation
not so far beneath the surface.
Darling, come, bring
your spade. I’m not talking
about potatoes.

Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: