Always a Fan - July 12, 2025

Finally, the house is quiet

daughter and grandkids are

off to ride the tram to

the top of San Jacinto

cleaning ladies are driving away

and the ticking clock can again

be heard clearly, through

a lemon-scented silence

sitting here alone, under the

cooling fan, I contemplate the

breeze it makes, how it was once

the duty of a slave to his master

I bet with limbs so sore at the

end of the day, he could barely

lift food to his lips and before

he went to bed, had ointment

rubbed on arms and shoulders

then rolled around till he found

ta night’s sliver of painless sleep

perhaps my empathy comes

from a crappy job I once had

and why I love fans of all kinds

that do the enduring work

of pretending to be the wind