Messages From Carrie
A Box Turtle Lays Her Eggs
June 24th, 2009
A box turtle the size of my open hand
Leaned into her digging,
First the back right leg,
And then the back left leg,
Reaching gracefully with her long curved toes,
Tenderly hollowing a safe place,
To lay her four perfectly white,
Beautifully elongated
Rubbery eggs.
She would not be distracted
Or altered from her mission
Now was the time, to give her young
All she would ever give them.
Here was the place,
Between the calla lilies and the tuberoses
To bury her finest work.
Refilling the hollow with gentle dirt,
And mulch so carefully arranged,
No person or raccoon or any unturtle thing
Would perceive the ground,
Had ever been disturbed.
She finished with as much of a sigh
As a box turtle can muster
And lumbered off into the tall grass
Never to return to what she so carefully placed.
In three months
Four turtles
Each the size of a quarter,
Will dig their way to the surface,
And make a dash for the woods.
Unless the ground is too cold
Or the conditions not correct,
And then they will winter over,
Emerging in the spring.
Such sound judgment for creatures
Who had not yet,
Even been born,
To sense it is infinitely wiser
To wait patiently under the snow,
Until the time is right.
I get impatient
I want to understand
I want to do something
I want to fix the problem,
When the wisdom of the turtle tells me
Be determined
Be righteous in my goals
Heave a big sigh after a job well done.
But have the good sense to know
When its time to dig in
Time to create
Time to walk away
Time to winter over
Time to burst into the world
Time to run for the woods
Time to be no more or less
Than exactly what I am.