Poetry by Steve Cushman

When My Friend Tells Me He and His Wife Watch All Creatures Great and Small Together I’m More Than A Little Jealous

Another friend tells me he and his wife

read the Sunday comics to one another

while sipping tea, or hot chocolate, on their couch,

but this friend has been married three times,

so we’ll see how long they last.

Julie and I don’t read the same sort

of books, like the same TV shows,

and while I’d prefer to be writing or hiking

she’s happiest in her garden all weekend.

The one thing we share is bird-watching.

One of us will call the other over to a window.

There’s a Downy Woodpecker, she’ll say

A Carolina Chickadee, I’ll offer,

nodding at the rocking feeder

and the finger-sized white and black bird.

I’ll stand behind her at the French doors,

my arm wrapped around her waist,

her hair smelling of toast and goodness,

A Bluebird, she’ll say

Titmouse, I’ll say

Wren

Purple finch

And we’ll go on like this,

back and forth,

together,

for a few minutes

on a Saturday afternoon in May.

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Steve Cushman has published three novels, including Portisville, winner of the 2004 Novello Literary Award. His first full-length collection, How Birds Fly, won the 2018 Lena Shull Book award.  A new collection, The Last Time, is due out in 2023.