Digging By Seamus Heaney
Digging
By Seamus Heaney
Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.
Under my window, a clean rasping sound
When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:
My father, digging. I look down
Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds
Bends low, comes up twenty years away
Stooping in rhythm through potato drills
Where he was digging.
The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft
Against the inside knee was levered firmly.
He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep
To scatter new potatoes that we picked,
Loving their cool hardness in our hands.
By God, the old man could handle a spade.
Just like his old man.
My grandfather cut more turf in a day
Than any other man on Toner’s bog.
Once I carried him milk in a bottle
Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up
To drink it, then fell to right away
Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods
Over his shoulder, going down and down
For the good turf. Digging.
The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap
Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge
Through living roots awaken in my head.
But I’ve no spade to follow men like them.
Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests.
I’ll dig with it.
893510 706459Pretty section of content material. I just stumbled upon your weblog and in accession capital to assert that I get really enjoyed account your blog posts. Any way I will likely be subscribing to your augment and even I achievement you access consistently quickly. 654566
817706 30265you may have a wonderful weblog here! would you wish to make some invite posts on my weblog? 502866
366616 619768I think other internet site proprietors ought to take this internet website as an example , quite clean and great user genial style . 775108
338146 529155Thank you for your very great details and feedback from you. car dealers san jose 413618
27561 208673Constructive criticism is typically looked upon as becoming politically incorrect. 257968