Easter Morning Woonsocket

Red male cardinal sits on the electric wire this Easter morning
in view from the picture window.

I go out to sweep the front sidewalk
trying not to wake the neighbors with my metal dustpan.
The early morning sweeping sound is soothing,
the piles of salt, sand, and dead leaves.

Two toddlers are hunting Easter eggs with their parents
in the front yard across the street,
the pistachio-colored house with the picket fence.

The dad is tall, wearing camouflage pants,
the two kids in pink and white carry mickey mouse baskets.
Daffodils bloom against the brick foundation in the sun.

The last time I saw my brother was Easter 17 years ago
when he came to see my new house,
bearing yellow daffodils in a red flowerpot.

He sat on my couch for two hours telling me
how I've ruined the family; I just listened.
He left to drive to his mom and dad's country house
for a gourmet Easter banquet.

Not much has changed in 17 years.
I still get complaints from my family,
how I'm ruining their lives.
They still have gourmet banquets, and I still just listen.

I may live on bread and water
but it's the best bread and water in the world.
I may have no heat but I wrap myself in a blanket.
It's the best blanket in the world.