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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 green weeds go under!
 The blade chops the earth new.
 Ignorant the wise boy who
has never rendered thus the world fecunder.
Other works by John Updike ...



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