Crazy Jay
He lands on my truck several
times in a day -
obsessed with my side mirrors,
he pecks
at each, jumping and flitting
back and forth,
seeing himself in mirrors,
windows -
so many jays leering and mocking
him!
He scares himself away, but
the window
of my studio flings up another
ghost jay, another
who mocks and flys at him -
he must fight!
He slams into that glass wall,
falls away,
confused but valiant; he will
not permit
these jays to hang out on his
turf, mocking,
mocking… the daily battle
with unbeatable,
unscareable foes, each as valiant
as he, each
dealing him the same harsh
attack, eye for eye…
and never suspecting who it
is that he fights.
Scio: 101o
The small town fair committee
of the Lamb and Wool Festival
had planned on an Oregon spring
-- cold, wet, much need of coffee.
The heat wave up from California,
an annoying visitor,
hung over our shoulders as
we stood in clumps on Main and 3rd
and watched a flatbed of loggers,
precariously rigged on “trees”
or straddling logs, waving
hard hats, mid-parade. It weighed down
the brave cadre of 4-H kids
in their suede jackets, looking
pink as cotton candy, dazed
but marching. Hard candy softened
as it hit the streets and toddlers’
sticky hands were dust-smeared;
the water bottles long empty.
Frontier storefronts’ meager shade was
jammed with hatless crowds
and Main Street’s lucky residents hung out
under shade trees, their kitchens
full of lemonade. The sizzle of lamb burgers
just made it hotter; sweat
beaded the arms of the grill chef, and ice
cone vendors were mobbed. The
heat wave wandered dusty tents of leather belts,
wind chimes that hung dumbly,
quilted potholders, crocheted shawls.
In the pens, show lambs sat,
refusing to perform or show a bright eye;
resentful of being pre-roasted.
The high school gym, quilt-walled,
was popular, out of the sun;
long lunch tables of handmade towels
and quilted jumpers less attractive
than the water fountain. Folks grinned
and shook their heads ruefully,
smiling with a vague guilt:
they may have brought this
heat upon themselves
with too much wool in one place
Catherine McGuire has had more than a hundred poems published – some of
the most recent include The Lyric, Melusine, New Verse News, The Smoking Poet, The Quizzical Chair anthology
and Main Street Rag. Some years ago, her poem “Hunger” rode the buses of Portland, OR via the Poetry
In Motion project. She self-published a chapbook, “Joy Into Stillness: Seasons of Lake Quinault” and is currently
the assistant director at CALYX Press.
