Turtles

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

They’ve figured this out,

clearly - see how time chooses

the wise – what it is to know the

fleshy body as home  - to inhabit this place

that so many fear to claim with the name they’ve been given.

And notice how peaceful one can then become,

though, yes, there are exceptions.

Was it patience?

Was it perseverance?

Let the thin veneer of moss grow slick and

rings hint-gossip of life story in the scutes of

her carapace as she strides,

slowly, between some place and

somewhere else, maybe a tawny mushroom patch;

it is of no great nerosis to her, or me.

I know she is out ahead of us, this one.

I - standing here beside her -

I am praying that someday, 

some day,

we’ll be able to catch up.

~ Jamie K. Reaser, Author

Published in "Wild Life: New and Selected Poems" 

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