School let out, and we headed down for swimming at the spring. But my friends got held up dreading turtles. They come so close. I hear they break skin.
We arrived, and I tore yellowed leaves from a fallen limb. I stood with it raised above the waters and the swimmers.
I’d only hit the surface once, when a loud voice called from rocks across the pond – “Don’t you hurt those turtles!” – a dad voice, unyielding, but we couldn’t see the person who was calling.
O creatures, who is your protector? O stick, you think we can take him too?
Photo credit: Michael Sobota
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