Interview with Box Turtle

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Come out of the cold. You'll warm beneath my dome.
For sixty years, this room has been my home.

Want mushrooms? Snails? The rain I corked in spring?
Oh yes, in my field, I've now seen everything

from the stream to the oak on the ridge -- I recall when it fell --
the bike path I've crossed twice -- the traffic was hell.

The yoga mat's for tone. No, no more races.
My books; my sketches of beloved faces

all gone or gone beyond my own square mile.
I hope that they look back, as I do, and smile.

Here I work. Retired and alone,
I still seek ways to say what I have known:

We love, we hurt, we forgive, and we're forgiven.
My faith's not just a creed; it's a story I live in.

My pleasure. I didn't see how long we'd been.
It's good to stick my neck out now and then.

Image by Susan Rouse.
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See a photo of a box turtle on the bike trail with my blogpost Alone on Two Wheels Around Atlanta. I think of the box turtle as my spirit animal. - WSS