The Potato Picker …

15 years ago
ImageTheir blossoms have faded,
Green foliage turned brown.
“Their potatoes are dead.”
Noted a visitor to town.

In July, they were beautiful,
Now, they’ve gone by.
But that field holds much life
For a farm boy’s eye.

County children are wiser,
They are rich in farm lore.
They will help collect
the treasures
When school closes once more.

They saw the small baskets,
Their father brought home.
The tiny gloves mom bought
Are their very own.

The community unites,
Until the harvest is done.
Gives support to the farmer
His job is a big one.

School closes for the season,
Books are put on hold.
Teachers become truck drivers
To students, potatoes are gold.

The crew arrives with lunches,
Enthusiasm abounds.
The digger starts at daybreak
Spuds appear on the ground.

Dad the farmer, bids
 them welcome,
“Glad you’re back.
Here’s your tickets.”
He paces off their section
“Is this too much?
Or can you pick it?”

Their school chums
 pick beside them,
And so the race begins,
Barrels fill by the dozen
They are tired when day ends.

Grampy drives the digger,
“Get busy,” he grins
 as he moves past.
We love him dearly
Why must he drive so fast?

“Let’s slow that digger down,”
Rocks are placed upon the row.
The driver slows on his next trip
“Who did this?”
 He’ll never know.

Not a picker raised their head,
They are working
much too hard.
Inward humor spurs them on
Revenge is sweet,
but be on guard!
Trucks rumble on to the field,
Changing barrels is their game.
“Throw me an empty.”
Is a familiar refrain.

This is not child labor,
They’re combining
work and fun,
With their friends,
 they all feel helpful
Character blocks building,
 one by one.

Saturday is Pay Day,
They all gather around.
Proud faces are smiling
Self-esteem is their crown.

A rainy day for shopping,
Is what they hope for now.
New clothes for school — maybe a bike
The reward for their labor — Wow!

Experience gained
 on the farm is dear,
Becomes tightly sealed
within one’s soul.
Unwittingly released
 in a future year
These days more special
Those days were gold!


This poem was written by Marion Cassidy in 2000.
It is part of the Southern Aroostook Agricultural Museum collection.