On Potatoes

Joan Miró

“God looks down from heaven
        at the children of Adam,
     to see if a single one is wise,
        a single one seeks God.
  All have proved faithless,
        all alike turned sour,
     not one of them does right,
        not a single one.” ~ Psalm 53:3-4 [JB]

The last sack
of last autumn’s
potatoes still hangs
from its hook in
the root cellar

In the darkness
they too can sense
the change in season
Firm thru winter
now grown soft

Thru the coarse
mesh of the burlap
their eyes are sending
runners to the light
they cannot see

Soon they’ll be
good for nothing
other than quartering
plantings of spring
for the fall table


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
This entry was posted in free verse, poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to On Potatoes

  1. seeing the light through the coarse mesh of the world… Loved this

    Liked by 2 people

  2. I’m with Maureen


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