Digging by Seamus Heaney
Digging
Seamus HeaneyBetween 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 downTill 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.
KEEP READING
SHARED WITH GRATITUDE
This poem appeared in Death of Naturalist by Seamus Heaney, published by Faber & Faber, 1966. (Available on: Amazon • Bookshop)
ABOUT SEAMUS HEANEY
Seamus Heaney was born on April 13, 1939, in Castledawson, County Derry, Northern Ireland. He produced numerous collections of poetry during his career, including Human Chain (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2010); District and Circle (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2006); Opened Ground (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1999), which was named a New York Times Notable Book of the Year; The Spirit Level (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1996); Selected Poems 1966–1987 (Faber and Faber,… (more)
Read more poems by Seamus Heaney • Find books by this poet on Amazon • Bookshop • Or view my library
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