Ode to a Hoe

This entry is part 18 of 31 in the series Odes to Tools

 

What begins with this
singular L?
New worms, certainly,
from the splitting
of their parent self.
Whole new cities
of aerobic bacteria.
Stones from rocks.
Sprouts of pigweed, lamb’s-quarters,
purslane, dock: seeds
that had lain dormant for decades
until the hoe stirred them
into life.
This italic L spells
hills for yams,
channels for irrigation water,
a level bed for flowers.
Its thick tongue
uncovers an instant palate.
Luh, it says.
Luh   luh   luh   luh.
The shocks travel
up the aching arms.

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5 Replies to “Ode to a Hoe”

  1. Love this one, Dave! It’s timely too. Caught me in a luh luh lull recovering from vibrational voltage from hoeing the garden yesterday. Ouch! Now I’m inspired, however. I guess the ‘L’ got me started on this one. (Grin). No double entendre intended in the title.

    Chicaghoe

    Upheaver of crazed mud
    Flipper of turf and rocks
    Archeologist of leaf layers
    Mincer of soil nubs and worms
    Channeler of the dirt divide
    Father to the plow
    Feeder to the nation
    Hoe! Hoe! Hoe!

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