Seven Turtles

Visiting baby turtles

My sister is a nurturer. Her life wouldn’t be complete without a menagerie of homeless pets and various other wayward creatures. A year ago, a momma turtle ambled into her yard from the desert across the street. Momma set up housekeeping in the flower bed, and as nature would have it, produced seven quarter-sized baby turtles. 

When I visited, my sister unearthed the drowsing brood from the flower bed. Cute as baby anythings, they were lined up each one stacked on the back of the sibling in front. Turtles, who are cold blooded, turn their backs to the sun, using their shells like miniature solar panels. To catch the rays, they will climb as high as possible, which usually means onto another turtle’s back. In turtle terms, this is called stacking, or a turtle train. Here’s my poem about the turtles on a train. 

Seven Baby Turtles

Seven baby turtles

Like buttons on a coat, 

Line one behind the other 

Snoozing in the dirt. 

This warm and misty morn

The seven baby turtles,

Wiggle themselves awake

 And leave their cozy berth.

Let’s go on a holiday

Pipes up the little one, 

Stretching up to see

From his place in line. 

Ahead, another complains

Of his aching back,

But the littlest one says 

Fine, we’ll take the train. 

They pile on board

With their discount tickets, 

But turns out the turtles 

Don’t know where to go.

As the train rolls on 

They discuss lots of places, 

Then each baby turtle

Votes to take the train home. 

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For more about turtles, All Turtles.

For more poetry,

Tune into The Poetry Broadcast where former U.S. Poet Laureate Billy Collins discusses and reads poetry on Tuesdays and Thursdays. 

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*This poem is about turtles, not the proper poetry form.