The rough bark of humus erupts knots of potatoes

It is easy to halve the potato where there is love.

Irish Proverb


... 2

Flint-white, purple. They lie scattered
like inflated pebbles. Native
to the blank hutch of clay
where the halved seed shot and clotted
these knobbed and slit-eyed tubers seem
the petrified hearts of drills. Split
by the spade, they show white as cream.

Good smells exude from crumbled earth.
The rough bark of humus erupts
knots of potatoes (a clean birth)
whose solid feel, whose wet inside
promises taste of ground and root.
To be piled in pits; live skulls, blind-eyed.

...

from At a Potato Digging: Seamus Heaney