Looking out my bedroom window
past the bluebirds and cardinals
vying for position on the seed-filled feeder,
past the doves and the squirrels
shamelessly settling for the leftovers below,
past the obligatory but unused lawn furniture,
past the turtles and storks and herons, and
past an alligator swimming slowly, but purposefully,
toward his place in the sun,
I can see the second green and the third tee
of the golf course where I live.

In these days of pandemic and social distancing
the golfers each drive their own cart.
On the putting green players stand six to ten feet apart,
no one touches the flagstick,
there are no high fives,
no shaking hands.

The green carts are driven
down the cart path
one-by-one
from two green
to three tee,
like four green baby ducks
following each other,
identical, synchronous, six to ten feet apart.

After teeing off
the players in the carts
again follow each other
one-by-one to the end of the path
before scattering
to the fairway or the bunker or the woods
or the edge of the lake
where the alligator has fallen asleep
in the sun with his mouth open
as if he is warning the golfers
to maintain the appropriate social distance.
Considerably more than six to ten feet apart.