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!