I've been reminded* of this poem I wrote long ago.
The turtle carries her world on her back.
Box turtle, dragging a coffin
of her own building. Carapace
and plastron, snapped shut.
Locked.
The naked turtle dances with the leaves,
slithers into dark and wormy crannies,
floats away under a dandelion fluff.
You'll find her singing
-of course turtles sing,
you just never heard them
through the soundproofing in the shell-
you'll find her singing in the mist
at the top of the waterfall.
She rides a coconut
across the Pacific, she burrows deep
into the roots of islands.
Sometimes she shivers
and wishes for her cozy shell.
Sometimes she'd rather be safe
than soaring.
And here are a couple of turtles, living in a friend's backyard pond.
 |
| Contemplating a dance in the leaves. |
 |
| Safe. |
*For Maria
Such lovely imagery here, and sometimes it IS better to be safe than soaring. :)
ReplyDeleteI've become more partial to turtles with age. Never used to see anything special about them but now I do.
ReplyDeletePK