All Praise the Humble Potato

Place them gently one on one on one
an inch deep and same apart for spinach
sprinkle lettuce light and similarly cover
not too deep, not too close but sparse is what
the rows seem, too distant and forlorn
on this grey soggy day of boot-stick earth
but with the silent secret only seen
from the vantage point of time lapsed
the space will soon enough seem cramped
a metropolis of leaf and bud alive
with slugs and bugs voracious

lay hair thin leeks in trenches primed
rich with humus and dreams of distant soup
pot shared by the white earth-eggs that already
creep first fingers from the wizened skin of kin
snugged warm under an eelgrass quilt which will
reveal a bounty, harvested with no complaints
in this less fertile corner of the lot where tomatoes
would flatly refuse and zucchini would dither
demanding more and onions would sulk in limbo
but where potatoes silent, secretly, prodigiously produce
never loved or lauded half as much as they deserve

~ Jenni Blackmore

Jenni writes: “A couple of years ago I decided to write a poem a day for a year. Not necessarily one of my most brilliant schemes. However stubborn is as stubborn does and so 365 poems later I ended up with a eclectic collection which I am now shopping around under the title, The Books of Everyday. I am originally from Manchester, England, but now live my dream on a small island east of Halifax, Nova Scotia, where I write poetry and fiction for all ages, paint and practice sustainable living with a variety of critters. I have written and illustrated several books for children and a collection of my short stories and poetry was published under the title, Counting Crows.

2 Responses to “All Praise the Humble Potato”

  1. this is a wonderful poem all gardeners can sink their trowels into.

  2. Potatoes are so cool. This poem is so deep, its jazzzz deep.

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