Digging Poem by William Barton
Digging
Born on a croft, your forefathers
dug peat and potatoes.
As for you, a lifetime in the pit,
harvesting the black gold.
Now, your brogue still as soft
as rain falling on green Irish hills,
you dig your own ground
and sow your own crops -
a lifetime of pick and spade,
fork and hoe; till one day
other hands will dig for you
an everlasting plot.
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Poem about an old Irish friend of mine who works on the same allotment
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/16/2024 4:44:21 PM # 1.0.0.1119
