Sowing Potatoes - Poem by Sadiqullah Khan
Staple for winters
Sweet, from the earth's soft top,
From the roots, deciduous,
Covered in basins of earth -
Ah! Earth, such sustenance
When the sun turns its eyes away
When the moon hides in clouds.
You ain't the solitary reaper
You ain't the picker of spring's flowers.
It feeds, it tastes like something
Hot, fabulous, juicy and curried
By spices, oiled as fries.
If we could be children
And a baked potato with skin in embers
Smoked black, cooled by blowing
And rubbed in hands.
Family sows it, and digs it,
Savors it, with tumoro tea and wheat bread.
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