EIGHTH WEEK SATURDAY: THE TURTLE WHO COULD…..

 

First of all, let me say here that this is my last post to include the number of weeks I have been posting.  Now that I have passed the two-month mark, even I am convinced sufficiently that I have it in me to keep going public with my scribblings a minimum of 5 days a week, most weeks 6 days.   So now let me return to the world of non-human residents of this earth, where I am often happiest and often learn the most.

 

THE TURTLE WHO COULD….

 

Under slugging curtains of rain,

the old turtle shelled open the day,

rocking and rolling under the skein

of cobwebbed dead limbs from May.

 

“Old turtle,” said the large black watery dog,

“How can you smile bug-eating in such boggery?”

“Old turtle,” said the shiver black crow in wog,

“How can you slide up in all this foggery?”

 

“My dear and most honorable friends so wet,”

said the old drying turtle in webbery,

“I am old, remember?”

“I hold toe memories against all you bet.”

 

“Furthermore, dear blessed friends above me”,

munchled the old turtle on flywings,

“While you were looking high and dry to be,

with your eyes off the lowly spikings;

 

“I, yes I,” said the old burrowing turtle,

“I, yes I, found the small dry part underneath

“the old discards of yesteryear’s myrtle,

 rolled down into well-fed shellersheath.”

 

Now the turtle and the crow and the dog

all three leaned together together;

Each leaning on the other in a clog

of dry toes and wings and nose in tether.

 

ALWAYS REMEMBER THE TURTLE WHEN LIFE SEEMS TO WASH YOU AWAY FROM OTHERS.

 

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