Out the back window I see, resting there next
to the mulch bin, a giant Galapagos Tortoise,
not moving or eating anything, but simply resting,
steady and sure as the harvest moon,
its two front legs stretching out straight,
head peeking at me from beneath its dark carapace.
But I know it cannot be a Galapagos Tortoise
because this is winter in New England
and snow is covering everything, the yard
and trees and the mulch bin.
I rub my eyes, look out again see
it’s only the large rock at the end of the path
resting there sure and steady as Mars
shining red in the winter sky, and not
a Galapagos Tortoise after all, watching me quietly
from out there alongside the mulch bin in the snow.
Published 2012. Ok, not really an animal poem at all.
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