conversation with a turtle

as ponder the old

green turtle

sunning himself on

a log

in the lake,

tossing him a piece

of bread

as i sit on the bench.

i try not

to look at the crepe skin

on my

arm,

or leg, but there it is.

grandpa

has arrived.

i look at the freckles,

the dots

and blemishes.

the strange

barnacles

that have attached themselves

to me

over time.

i stare at the turtle

and his

neck, his piercing eyes,

and whisper

i understand

the shell now. 

he smiles and nods

his little head.