turtle

the turtle
his etched
diamond back
so brittle
and hard,
golden brown,
his ancient
head,
and yellow
beak, twisting
in the morning
sun. moving
ever slowly
towards
water where
he can be
free of himself
and move
without
the restraints
of gravity
and mud.
untouched by
those
who want to see
what he is
all about,
picking him
up, turning
him sideways.
knocking on
the shell.
we all want to
be in water.