Saturday, May 14, 2011

First Sown

First sown

Peas are the first thing we plant
always. We lie full length
on the cold black earth and poke
holes in it for the wrinkled
old men of the seeds.

Nothing will happen for weeks.
Rain will soak them, a white
tablecloth of snow will cover
them and be whisked off.
The moon will sing to them:

open, loosen, let the pale
shoots break out. No,
they are pebbles, they sit
in the earth like false teeth.
They ignore the sweet sun.

Then one unlikely day
the soil cracks along miniature
faults and soon baby leaves
stick out their double heads
and we know we shall have peas.

"First sown" by Marge Piercy, from The Hunger Moon: New & Selected Poems, 1980-2010. © Alfred A. Knopf, 2011. Reprinted without any real permission but with enduring gratitude and respect.


jo said...

Sophie I love the images this poem brings to my mind and also a memory from years ago when I would raid my mother's pea patch - me eating the peas and my cocker spaniel eating the pods! Needless to say, when my mother discovered her pea patch had been raided she was not amused. xx

Sophie Munns said...

Enjoyed reading your response very much Jo!
The cocker spaniel too?
Precious memory really ... the small things. And as children we so love the smallest of things!
ps great to see your personal blog... and latest projects!

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