Turtle Analysis

Now I see it--

it nudges with its bulldog head

the slippery stems of the lilies, making them tremble;

and now it noses along in the wake of the little brown teal



who is leading her soft children

from one side of the pond to the other; she keeps

close to the edge

and they follow closely, the good children--



the tender children,

the sweet children, dangling their pretty feet

into the darkness.

And now will come--I can count on it--the  murky splash,



the certain victory

of that pink and gassy mouth, and the frantic

circling of the hen while the rest of the chicks

flare away over the water and into the reeds, and my heart



will be most mournful

on their account.  But, listen,

what's important?

Nothing's important



except that the great and cruel mystery of the world,

of which this is a part,

not to be denied.  Once,

I happened to see, on a city street, in summer,



a dusty, fouled turtle plodded along--

a snapper--

broken out I suppose from some backyard cage--

and I knew what I had to do--



I looked it right in the eyes, and I caught it--

I put it, like a small mountain range,

into a knapsack, and I took it out

of the city, and I let it



down into the dark pond, into

the cool water,

and the light of the lilies,

to live.

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