A pitch fork Poking for potatoes Buried underneath
Garden
My
dirt.
grandpa
In his straw hat
Holding the handle, Digging around the
Edge of the potato patch
Me, with
dirty
knees
Hovering over the Patch with big eyes
And Ready
a burly
gunny sack
to tag a hiding spud.
Grandpa never mistakes
my
For a potato.
David Heinrich
hand
