TURTLES ON A LOG
Turtles twelve did float by me on a log, Soft shelled, big, green and mean, were they, Sunning, funning, and whatever turtles do. Their refuge a temporary one, drifting to the point, At some future time, wood in my fireplace will be, Yet this day, perhaps an hour, turtle heaven it be. How like those turtles are we, living for the now, Taking advantage of an accidental occurrence, Wrong this is not, prior planning it is not too. To grounding they drift ever nearer, dogs about, This might get to... Sign in to see full entry.