Poetry: Old Turtle, Northern Lights, & Dad
Lanesboro, Minnesota poet Sandy Webb (Photo submitted)
Old Turtle
The water closes over my head.
Suddenly the rules change
The snorkel
is the only thing
connecting
me to the landed life
Breathing in ….. out
slow deliberate rhythm
Equal in, equal out
Beyond the breakers
Movement is motionless
Floating in salty thickness
The deep world opens
Multi-colored shapes
swimming in, around, through
hovering
It’s easy to stay too long
not wanting to return to the world of gravity
My snorkeling friends wait
We need to get back through the waves
I kick more determinedly
She calls.
I stop
midkick
pull knees to chest
turn back around
She stops
Beak to face
Old Turtle
barnacles ride on her massive shell swimming greenness
“Be,” she says
“long enough for barnacles to grow”
“Listen, long enough for barnacles to grow, in the silence,’ she says
Then she swung away and melted into the green haze.
Northern Lights
I AM sun fingers
darting sinuous light bands
playing cat’s cradle
The Confidence Grower
How many times
Dad ate my pies
“Mmm. Pecan’s my favorite.
I like to eat the point first.”
Pumpkin, apple, lemon
Pie after pie after pie
Swelled my confidence
And I make good pie now
And, now, I remember.
He never really liked dessert.
© Sandy Webb, 2023
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Contributor
Sandy Webb loves being outdoors: under the sky or the water. She’s been active in the arts since she moved to Lanesboro in 2010.
