To Move the Good Earth

Hoeing

    by John Updike

I sometimes fear the younger generation will be deprived
    of the pleasures of hoeing;

    there is no knowing
how many souls have been formed by this simple exercise.

The dry earth like a great scab breaks, revealing

    moist-dark loam— 
    the pea-root's home,
a fertile wound perpetually healing.

How neatly the green weeds go under!
    The blade chops the earth new.

    Ignorant the wise boy who
has never rendered thus the world fecunder.