POTATOES

POTATOES

I can smell the sweet potato peel

Upon my skin – and I visualise walking

Amongst the summer rows.

I pick over the box of earthy potatoes

When I pull one that is perfect

I turn it in my hand like a gold nugget

Buried in my memory - a charm.

I peel back happiness from the soil,

Memories drop into a watery bowl;

The day we planted them – sowing

Love which had lain on the edges.

Uncertain, I nearly threw love out

With un-seeded tubers; to decay in hedges.

Instead I wrapped them and stored them 

In a cold shed - for spring planting.

I can already see your face shining pride

At flowering drills; you stand with a wide-stance;

The posture of the accomplished soul - your eyes,

Stare lovingly at each planted offering.

I wrote this a couple of years ago; inspired while peeling potaoes - fresh from the soil. The  simple jobs are always the best!