TURTLE

     Leaving the old place a main branch breaks
     Off the shade maple making a white gash.
     Driving rains find weak places in the wall
     And water leaks in the cellar for hours.
     Apple whips flourish after a poor start.
     New cherries never recover from last year's drought.
     Heavy with wet low boughs hang down over the path
     And I have to step off into the tangled border.

     The turtle returns in April to the same spot
     At the wild rose in the field by the Great Swamp.
     We find her clearing a thicket the year we move in
     Her body in a cavity of dirt concealed by thatch.
     Green shoots grow in the gutters filled with debris
     And a torrent overflows soaking the side of the house.
     A black slug climbs the wall powdery with mildew
     And I toss the slimy body back in the garden.

     Running in sun and stubble grass our boy spots her
     When the time for laying eggs is right.
     Bothered by flying insects attracted to light
     As a child he sleeps on the floor of a darkened room.
     In the morning moths in varied colors and shapes
     Cling motionless to the walls like stars at night.
     A giant creature with horns rests on the screen door.
     Later I pick up the stiff wing from dust on the porch.

     Overhead a barn swallow sits on a perch of mud and straw
     Flying away startled when I enter noisily coming home late.
     Necks broken I find the nestlings sprawled out
     On the floor below and the next day the spot is bare.
     I don't speak a word to anybody about this
     But I can't help trying to make sense from it.
     Now that I'm going away for good I'll never get to see her
     Make the slow trek from water to the sandy hill in Spring.

     Chatham NJ 7/10/94