Doodle Land
Johnclarestokes
Can I find the place
the boys memory traces
beneath the creaking steps
where the doodle bug slept
til time for slipping slant in
sand the wandering ant
swatting yellow flies feeding
them to the ants soldiering
not wandering from the well
marked line where larvae dwell
to emerge to choose the single
file or the cool dark dwelling
of the doodles wild.
Can I find the time
the boy held the line
to mark the row where
the acre peas would grow
with the old dego hoe
keeping at bay the weeds
imaging himself a Yellow Jacket
halfback like Walt defeating Sneads
to hear a father call him back
from the field of dreams to the task
of making this earthly garden the
best this Wakulla soil ever knew.
Can I dwell for just a spell
to trace again that sweet smell
wafting from the off plum line kitchen
of morning bacon and pancakes
waking the boy on the top bunk
awaiting the call so he could jump
to dress and load the brown vest
with the four ten shells
to fell the chattering bushy tails
down by the old drainage pond
the aroma of spent shot heavenly
to a boy always hungry for
the wonders doodle land could bring.
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