their slender necks take
chances, twisting slowly,
side to side,
as turtles do
from the murky brown
stew of the man made lake,
lake accotink,
they crawl with caution
upon the rotted log,
stuck in the muck
and debris of cups and cans,
wrappers,
assorted balls, plastic
no longer
holding cheese.
do they care. i suppose not.
and why should they
as the children
and parents stop to get a clear
clean shot,
well pleased.
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