Peter Chapman Poetry

so glad

it's early
i'm making coffee in my sister's kitchen
mom enters, smiling from sleep;
overnight the temperature has fallen to 5;
birds flit about the feeders,
bluejays rake feed to the ground
for the squirrels and doves;
a cardinal splashes red through a rhododendron
whose leaves, green all year, have shrunk
like curled tongues unable to whistle

"there's a shivering bush" i say to mom,
so glad to be in this visited room
with my mother and sister

"ooh that is a shivering bush" mom says
as though i'd memorized a poem well
and this was our deserving