A Sweet Labor
My husband has tools
for digging potatoes
but I like to use my hands
Reaching down deep
into the musty dark soil
mounded up like swollen bellies
I feel around for the curve of their bodies
wiggle them loose like teeth
Born into my hand
without the sharp edge of a shovel
more than twins
more than quintuplets
I lay them out in a proud display
marvel at each one’s uniqueness
In piles along rows they dry in the sun
glow golden at dusk
Collected in buckets
they tumble and plunk
then settle together like a newborn litter
I rise like a mother
from squatting labor
With buckets swinging
brimming with harvest
I haul my new brood home
_________Colleen Redman – late ’90s / Poets United
October 20th, 2018 9:55 am
Love this poem. Love to dig with my hands. Chels
October 20th, 2018 10:03 am
I can never get my fingernails clean! I feel so Irish when I dig potatoes!
October 21st, 2018 10:17 am
I absolutely LOVE this way of looking at the potato harvest! I’ve done my fair share of digging potatoes from the garden, even lifting them out of the ground by hand, but it never occurred to me to look at the process as a birth of sorts. Thanks for opening my eyes. Potatoes will never be the same!
October 21st, 2018 11:28 am
I so wish I could grow my own potatoes… it would be great to have them filling my root cellar. But I think I would use a garden fork to get them up
October 21st, 2018 12:21 pm
I loved harvesting potatoes. It always made me think of my great-grandmother, who fled Ireland during the potato famine. I once turned a kids’ sandbox into a potato bed – they are so hardy, they grew big and strong.
October 21st, 2018 1:42 pm
A down to earth poem. I enjoyed the comparison to birthing. So simple yet got me into your words
October 21st, 2018 1:54 pm
I have my great grandfather’s potato digger I use. I begin to dig potatoes when the ground starts to crack – small delicate skinned new potatoes.
October 21st, 2018 2:31 pm
My father loves gardening and we grow a few vegetables here as well.. ? Lovely write ❤
October 21st, 2018 4:17 pm
And now I want to go cuddle a potato. 🙂 And I do tend to be a hands-on planter/re-potter. Loved this!
October 21st, 2018 4:32 pm
Lovely, there’s nothing like getting your hands dirty from the rich earth.
October 21st, 2018 5:19 pm
This is simply lovely Colleen!
October 21st, 2018 6:13 pm
I like this, Colleen. There is something about using one’s hands. More personal to actually feel the potatoes as you are taking them from the ground. It sounds like you have a personal relationship with them. I understand that. Your poem gave me ‘food’ for thought!!
October 21st, 2018 7:16 pm
What a delightful poem with an earthy primitive feel about it echoing to role women still have today in producing their offspring.
October 21st, 2018 7:55 pm
simply gorgeous!
you had me suckered right in, back to the time I was a child and had the privilege of helping my grandfather roust the potatoes fresh from the field on his farm!
there is nothing quite like sinking one’s hand into rich soil and excavating somewhat blindly to bring the bounty up to the light 🙂
a wonderful poem Colleen, filled with such glorious images and I really like the idea of roosting over the brood – bringing them home to reap long-term rewards.
October 21st, 2018 8:44 pm
Yes! I was always impressed with my potatoes and surprised with their generosity.
Got me thinkin’ again. Thanks, for a wonderful piece.
ZQ
October 21st, 2018 9:31 pm
I love the joy brewing out of these words, pure delight that makes me wish I was harvesting potatoes, too.
October 21st, 2018 10:01 pm
Love that image of wiggling them loose like teeth!!!
October 21st, 2018 11:02 pm
Wow, that’s wonderful. Alas I am no gardener, but you make me feel the sensual and emotional delights of it all. Thank you.
October 22nd, 2018 5:14 am
Wow! Such a wonderful parallel created through the channels of new birth and harvest — the imagery of digging around in “the musty dark soil/mounded up like swollen bellies” is plain wonderful. I loved it!
October 22nd, 2018 12:09 pm
I don’t garden but I wish I did, especially after reading how you connect to the earth so intimately by doing so. Love your poem.
October 22nd, 2018 2:35 pm
I love your poem, Colleen. I’ve felt the same way when digging up potatoes. 🙂