Hoeing By John Updike

Time to work in the garden. I saw this poem posted on a poetry post at Margie’s home and wanted to share it.

Hoeing

I sometimes fear the younger generation
will be deprived
of the pleasures of hoeing;
there is no knowing
how many souls have been formed by this
simple exercise.

The dry earth like a great scab breaks,
revealing
moist-dark loam —
the pea-root’s home,
a fertile wound perpetually healing.

How neatly the great weeds go under!
The blade chops the earth new.
Ignorant the wise boy who
has never rendered thus the world
fecunder.

John Updike


Discussion Area - Leave a Comment




Copyright © 2007 Mover Mike. Design by Anthony Baggett.