if trees could talk
wonder what they’d say
met an old man
on the road late after noon
hat pulled over to shade
his eyes
jacket slumped over his
shoulders
told me “girl! my hands seen
more than all
them books they got
at Tuskegee”
smiled at me
half waved his hand
walked on down the dusty road
met an old woman
with a corncob pipe
sitting and rocking
on a spring evening
“sista” she called to me
“let me tell you—my feet
seen more than yo eyes
ever gonna read”
smiled at her and kept
on moving
gave it a thought and went
back to the porch
“i say gal” she called down
“you a student at the institute?
better come here and study
these feet
i’m gonna cut a bunion off
soons i gets up”
i looked at her
she laughed at me
if trees would talk
wonder what they’d tell me