Root Cellar

Gunnysacks cover the winter crop,

the root cellar dry and warm in its burrow;

outside the sea lifts in the driving wind,

the long arc of sand shaped and re-shaped

by the fierce hand that forms the air

and lifts the gulls in one motion.

A part of me wants to lay down

in the dust of potatoes,

the ripening odor of apples,

to sleep and wake

with the dreams of bear

and hunger of a new born.

I want to fall further than night

into the color behind stars,

the deep dark of space beyond all light

and let long months go by

with hard shelled squash and seed corn

while I nurture and dry my desire,

then like an Irish spud

send out long thin eyes

for the first sight of tomorrow.


11 Responses to “Root Cellar”

  1. David Banner says:

    Never disappoints me, Don…bravo!

  2. Stan Grindstaff says:

    The exquisite ache of immortality… Cosmic destiny fulfilled… The incarnate commission accepted without the limitations… Yielding to the blend with no end… Exquisite…

  3. Eleanor GillMilner says:

    That’s about how I feel with mid-January. However, you described what I found in my potato storage yesterday…. fingerling potatoes “sending out long thin eyes”. They won’t see tomorrow, though, because I ate them today.

    I loved the thought of “deep dark of space beyond all light and let long months go by…”. Wonderful imagery Don.

  4. maria says:

    The winter cycle deeply described – excellent Don.

  5. Virginia Schoen says:

    i loved the imagery. i remember well the root celler in my childhood. i never wanted to lay down there tho, but i loved your expression.

  6. Thanks for reminding me of the first time I was in a root cellar. Oh, I thought, THIS is what the Earth smells and feels like. Rich, hearty, comforting, patient…and yes, earthy. But no matter how I tried, I was never an Earth Mother but a Star Woman anchored in the root cellar of Earth for now.

  7. Pichay says:

    I remember the root cellar on our family ranch. Oh, it was way more than potatoes! It was a mini-market also including onions, dried fruits, beef jerky, homemade whiskey-in-the-jar, and spiders–big daddy-long-legs!

    Maybe…..what we call “Black Holes” are root cellars for star seed! Stdar Woman would know…

  8. Beverley Boon says:

    It is a complete acquiescence to the moment of just going.
    Going to that place within, of all comfort and full release,
    for however long , to that place we all know about, and long to be,
    just for a little while.
    And then tomorrow, at the right time , the right tomorrow,
    will draw us back, happily, refreshed and relaxed.
    How lovely, Don.

  9. I’m just sayin’ this is bloody amazing! Your last posted poem, “Within Great Stones” started shouldering down into this rich poetic underworld space, and this poem fully inhabits it with a full bodied analogy doing its own work, unhindered by ideology or meta commentary. The last line heads there, but you stop and dismount while the reader is still in imagistic mind where poetry lives. I’m clicking on one of those “Favorite” buttons!

  10. […] poem from Don Hynes resonates right now – despite the New Year and the looking ahead perspective inevitably […]

  11. Monika Wadhwa says:

    Beautiful expression reminded me of a mystical story:A blind,young village girl,desperately wanting to GET EDUCATED regularly went to SCHOOL & learned by CONSTANT REPETITION while growing up.A doctor came to her village operated, her VISION returned.She went HOME,OPENED WINDOW,LOOKED AT THE SKY- A WHITE BIRD FLYING IN THE BRIGHT SUNLIGHT & said `AH THANK YOU DOCTOR`

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