The Turtle

Down to meek country I once came

and saw a turtle with no name.

Amidst brown stalks the fence posts rest,

upon one which the turtle sets.

It’s tattered shell lit by the sun,

the turtle’s heart gives thanks to none.

“For by my might, strong courage, life,

do I now rest from grounded strife.”

Though lifted head is brought to see

live flowing rippled fields of green,

barring life will his pride divide

from turtle’s eyes, truth turned aside.

“Gifted soul with new risen heights,

am I not worthy of your sights?”

While turtle basks safe in it’s dream,

the truth remains for you to gleam.