The Little Turtle

I kicked the ball,

all done my run,

and walked the sidewalk

by the wayside of the common

tracks of streetcars, vans, and trucks.

Round the bend, I approached, soon out,

bout twenty paces,

kneeled a man with covered hands.

As I got closer, it was clearer,

what it was he held so close:

He said, "the baby turtle, I found him, look!

I'm just helping him inside his tiny home."

The little turtle,

spry-green of shell and grey-webbed of feet,

The size of a JFK coin,

The man shown it with his fingers

where to waddle

to make it inside

the shoebox aquarium apartment home.

And on the news today

They said

TONIGHT--

The world's

On fire, out West

With flood, up North

And quake down South

And plague

And hate are all around,

And wars--the real kind

And the fake.

But all the while

this little turtle

is safe, and dry, and warm, and fed

by this man, so proud,

for saving a little life.

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