Daubers
John Clare Stokes
In the loft the old volumes found
Long out of print in dusky slow rot
Words gone unread with pages bound
by homes the daubers long forgot.
In the shed the old Briggs chugs
Pull rope frayed, varnished gas
Fuel lines stopped up with mud
Dauber homes from the past.
In the barn the Columbus cooking vat
Georgia Red cane grinding to a halt
Tobacco barn rabbit burners sputter and spat
it’s tiered rows the daubers sought.
On the porch the bare bulb is dim
We chip and chip for a yellow glow
A muddy mist casts a shadow slim
Keeping daubers warm long ago.
So brilliant were our golden guilds
Forever and ever they would last
But patiently the daubers build
His kingdom clogging, long after
ours is past.
