A turtle with a candle on its back

Lights your way.  How slowly you walk

 

Where the turtle leads—along the path

Or under broad leaves into the undergrowth, asking

 

What it keeps in its ancient brain.  Your mind

Wanders, which holds, you think,

 

So much.  In its shell, it carries a world

Ending; it smells wet earth, a creek running over

 

There.  Its small head cranes, neck bending

Pointedly.  Curiosity a kind of grace.  Your own.

 

 

 

 

from Bewilder, IPSI Chapbook 2