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That turtle on its rock is so alert.
Not quick--its head is raised to see its world,
As though it stood to watch great flags unfurled.
Why does it stand there on this rock inert?
This is a world of water, rocks and dirt.
More graceful creatures call this home, their curled
Necks, graceful wings and flight surpass a knurled
Shell basking. It's so slow, it could get hurt.
Yet there it is with shell that's either rough
Or smooth. I cannot tell from here. It needs
Not to explain to me its basking. Tough
And wet is where it wants to be. Where leads
This world? The turtle does not move. Enough
There is--there's food and sunshine--so it feeds.