The Dogwood in Early June
I’ve waited seven days for this dogwood
to unfurl its white cups, to drink the light
it gathers. Other flowers have passed
their season, our path matted
with pink rhodie remnants,
but the dogwood shows off
in open space between cedar
Sun fills each cup as I witness
from shaded days steeped in protests
heated to burning, to melting,
to truth yelling and tears.
The optimism of the dogwood returns each June –
layers one bloom above another, over and over
four loopy petals held to a green center.
As if whatever we must endure, we could,
in blossom beauty, boldness
that draws in the swallowtail
to remind us our tribe
may one day gather in light.