Root Cellar

In the damp chill of a root cellar—an underground or partly underground storage room or pit for root crops—the roots, bulbs, stems, shoots, and tubers never sleep. Instead, they are ever active, struggling to bring forth a new generation of life. So it is that bulbs break out of their boxes in search of cracks or holes that admit life-supporting light or offer an escape route to the outside. Shoots dangle and droop over the sides of crates or hang down like snakes. The smell of these denizens of the dark—along with the manure and buildup of mold against shelves and crates—is rank. But they refuse to die. Even the dirt shows signs of life.The theme of the poem is the speaker's celebration of the hardiness and determination of life forms—however small or ugly or insignificant—to survive and generate progeny even in unfriendly environments.One can interpret the theme as applying to anything that struggles fiercely to survive: a country in turmoil, a race of people facing prejudice, a religious movement, a company in financial trouble, an endangered species of animal, a revolutionary idea, a scientific theory, a political party, and so on.