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 performed this simple, stupid, and useful wonder.

—John Updike

Thank you, settledthingsstrange.

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    This was my summer.
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    I just spent the summer working on a farm, and while I hated hoeing, I think this poem applies so well to all the work I...
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    I sometimes fear the younger generation will be deprived of the pleasures of hoeing; there is no knowing how many souls...
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