I say
as the first snake
of the season
slithers into view
ahead of me
on the dirt path.
I slow down.
I take its picture.
I start to think
about all the animals
I have seen
down here
near Gregor's Crossing,
the snakes,
frogs,
owls,
ducks,
fish,
chipmunks,
and beavers.
And one time,
when the evening light
was slanting
in just the right
way to illuminate
the streambed
clearly to me
on the bank,
I saw this
giant 3-foot long
turtle
swimming along placidly.
So I followed along,
tried to get pictures
but none came out,
wondered where he came
from,
thought about age
and survival.
There were many people
nearby that day,
walking,
swimming,
enjoying the day,
but none of them
noticed the turtle,
and he seemed
to sense
when they were
nearby
in the water,
and turn back.
Old Grandfather Turtle,
I thought,
swimming near
Gregor's Crossing,
appearing only
when the light
and time are right,
appearing only to those
who can notice,
who can be silent
or still for
the right amount
of time.
Not noticeable
by the hectic modern
world of humans,
but still swimming
below the surface,
holding to the old ways,
the peaceful
and silent ways,
the enduring ways.
-Jim DuBois
April 18, 2013
PS - Two days before I put up this poem, I went for a walk, saying to myself, "I will notice the present moment this whole walk." And then I saw the turtle again! I got a few pictures.
