The Keepers Poem by Donal Mahoney

The billionaire would send 11 million back
across the border but not the four perhaps
who on this searing summer day

climb to the top of our house and creep
like spiders in a hurry, ripping off
our old roof and putting on a new one

singing joyful songs of their homeland.
The billionaire would find few Yanks
willing to go up there for the money

to swing a claw and hammer in the heat
day after day and work so hard so well.
These four, and thousands more, are keepers.