This is one of my favorite poems. It's by Seamus Heaney. Digging is about the line stretching from father to son across time. The shadow was just an accident. A collaboration between the sun and a healthy plant to enhance my weekend afternoon. Heaney's poems are keenly attuned to the texture of everyday life. The class I'm taking is asking me to make a reading list of the poets I like. I'm rereading Heaney as a starting point. Because I still have only scratched the surface.