what does the poet’s spade look like?
what coldhearted pointed tool sinks into the dictionary
lifting syllables up into the light?
what of that gardener
who has fallen off the clay piedmont
onto the sandy coastal plain?
(it looked the same till the shovel sank in)
will these poems translate?
will that blueberry bush, who was
limping along year to year,
thrive in this different soil?
20210604 for the challenge at Earthweal, where we look at the work of earthpoetry.
20210610 added to https://dverse.com for open link night. Check out our other poets!
erbiage 
This reminds me of Heaney’s poem ‘Digging.’ I suppose a poet’s spade used to look like a pen and now more often looks like a keyboard. Maybe a poet’s spade looks like a voice…
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Oo yes Ingrid I think that’s it!
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It will, with a poet’s care.
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Ah I hope so Ken, it’s kin do thrive there. Though the rivers are not clear streams but rather sloughs of tannin tea…
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Lovely. So rich with earth I can almost smell it.
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Thank you lindi
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Will a change of soils, like heart, translate in poems differently? Same tool, diff’rent maker’s day, poet become gardener, blueberry bush amenned in new soil (though clay to sand is a matter of degree). Indeed. – Brendan
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It’s all a mystery.
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Very beautiful and truly mystical.
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Well first, you had me with your opening line. I LOVE this post.
But….I think you forgot to include the tag to dVerse? An inadvertent slip of the keyboard I’m sure. Could you please add either a tag to dVerse or a line at the end of the poem like “posted also at dVerse” with https://dversepoets embedded in a link? Many thanks.
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Super! Thanks for adding the reference to dVerse! 🙂
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Survival of the fittest … of course it / you will.
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Love the poet as digger/gardener metaphor, weighing words/syllables with the shovel of the pen, judging suitable soil. Perfect.
pax,
dora
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A poem gardener digging into environs sampling what inspiration they may provide. Enjoyed this Eric.
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I think you said it well in the second line — just how pointed is that spade? Wield your tools wisely and all will be made right. Gorgeous poem, thanks for sharing. ~Jason
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sand + peat moss = blueberry heaven. clay sux.
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“lifting syllables up into the light”…….excellent!
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I think as poets we never know how we will transplant, hopefully, better than the blueberry bush.
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