Among the trees

I’ve grown soft

sitting on our porch

watching a group of women

come every morning with a leaf blower

to clear debris from the basketball court

Line up at safe distances

do stretches and calisthenics

on yoga mats, jog through the park

roll up their mats and disappear

into their cars

_

I read the news, write a bit

feel guilty about not attending

peaceful protests or having enough money

to contribute more to causes I believe in

I’ve thought of unretiring

but with this pandemic

taking a job from someone

who can’t retire feels selfish

_

I’ve had conversations with white friends

who say they feel paralyzed

unable or unwilling to speak or write

They say we need to hear black voices

I think, yes, but we need to hear

an entire spectrum of voices

We just don’t need

white folks telling other folks

how black folks should feel, react or live

If I don’t speak

I allow other white folks

to shape the narrative

for what white folks believe

White folks got us in this mess

and we damn sure

better help get us out

_

No matter what happens

I still feel guilty sitting

on my little porch

While mothers and mother nature

call cadence in the trees

and a yappy little dog

across the street from the park

complains about hip hop beats on a Bose

used to move and stomp

and clap among the trees

6-4-20