- Polder, by Seamus Heaney
- December 22nd, 2008
After the sudden outburst and the squalls
I hooped you with my arms
and remembered that what could be contained
inside this caliper embrace
the Dutch called bosom; and fathom
what the extended arms took in.
I have reclaimed my polder,
all its salty grass and mud-slick banks,
under fathoms of air, like an old willow
I stir a little in my creel of roots.
- Seamus Heaney (from Field Work)