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