Naked turtle

 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