Just A Small Turtle

From "The Lives of the Reptilian Saints"

I saw a small box turtle

          next to the roadway,

emerging from the bushes

           he stuck out his neck

And the commuter traffic roared by

           not slowing down a bit

Just a small turtle, all alone on his way,

          why must he cross? What does he seek?

As humans fly by, encased in their cars, as he in his shell

          millions of years of survival never trained him for this

He ducks in his head at the massive vibration of a semi

          Its wheels rumble close and a dark shadow blasts overhead

Without a movement he feels hidden upon the yellow centerline

          Then cautiously extends just the tip of his nose

Women pass by too closely, oblivious on their cellphones

          Brave men in pickups consider swerving over top this little thing

Many minutes pass until he reaches the very crown of the highway

          Just a small turtle with a very short life, and certainly no soul

I barely recognize him as I pass by lost in my AM fog

          But somewhere inside me his small struggle evokes a long-lost pathos

I keep on driving but my thoughts focus and remain

          I slow down and turn round to return and help him cross

My thoughts are lifted, for once, on the way to some lackluster work

          Perhaps one small deed can really begin a larger change

Only a moment too late do I return to the scene

          For though not yet dried, he has re-entered the eternal void

Just one very small turtle crossing our busy highway

          Just one more small accident on the road to my personal perdition.