40 FOUR SEASONS BREEZE | JANUARY 2023
Writers' Club
Poems By Jane Czajkowski
The Norse had Loki,
The Navajo have Kokopelli,
Big sisters have little brothers,
In the San Gorgonio Pass we have…
THE EAST WIND
You were never known for subtlety.
Your intentions are no mystery.
You blast your path in a raging rant,
And taunt us with your hollering cant.
Your mischief is beyond compare:
What you can grab, you scatter elsewhere.
Untie chair pads and toss them in air?
Break pots and twirl the rocking chair?
Ride a broom across the patio floor,
And sweep backyard leaves to the front door?
When the time is due to empty this place,
I'll gladly grant you one final grace.
I'll prop the front door wide open,
And invite you in from the back; then
You can twirl and behave tough and rough,
Sweep out the trash and unwanted stuff.
You can forward it over the hill
To the Riverside County Landfill.
(Please don't stop at the cemetery on your way.
They've had enough of you in their day).
P.S.
I've found the bucket behind the shed.
A chairpad in Baxter's flower bed.
A bent window screen in the bushes.
Where did you leave the paint brushes?
THE EAST WIND – REVISITED
You're back! What do you have in mind?
Is it to claim what you left behind?
You shoved me off the walkway.
You are in a hurry, you say,
To fill the window weep-holes with sand.
You jerked the car door out of my hand.
When I tried to get out, you punched my face.
Forced me back into a tight space.
You have the entire world to roam free.
Could you not leave ten cubic feet for me?
You were mean to Old Man Faulkner:
Knocked him down and broke his walker.
Then you stole the birthday pinata
From darling little Rosita.
You know you cannot keep up the pace.
So why don't you try to save face
And skedaddle out of the way?
Then we'll just call it a bad day.
(Though we must admit to say.)
The Writer's Club meets at 1 pm each
second Tuesday in the RCN Conference
Room. Contact Mary Lynn Archibald at
mlarchibald@mac.com. ~ Mary Lynn
Archibald
