The Writer's Almanac comes through again

I am not a fan of growing potatoes, but Hunter swears they taste better from the garden. So he has a bin a the back of the garden this year. They take up bed space when I could be growing melons or tomatoes.

Well today's poem is for those of you who love the potato

In Praise of the Potato

by David Williams

Potato, sojourner north, first sprung
from the flanks of volcanoes, plainspoken kin

to bright chili and deadly nightshade,
sleek eggplant and hairy tobacco,

we could live on you alone if we had to,
and scorched-earth marauders never bothered you much.

I love you because your body's a stem,
your eyes sprout, and you're not in the Bible,

and if we did not eat your strength,
you'd drive it up, into a flower.

"In Praise of the Potato" by David Williams, from Traveling Mercies. © Alice James Books, 1993. Reprinted with permission.


And in case youy missed it last year