I’m reeling in a pickerel on Dyer’s pond,
and have trouble unhooking the lure.
A turtle on a lily pad watches me
reach for pliers to free the fish.
In a deep voice, he growls:
What kind of creature are you?
I toss the fish back into the water,
and watch him swim away.
A red-tailed hawk swoops down
and decapitates the turtle’s head.
He leaves an epitaph on his shell, which says:
“Creatures great and small the Lord God made us all”
I walk into the nearest church doing poetry readings
where I can lie down and practice being dead.
I see the woman I’ve loved all my life, and ask:
“Will you marry me?” “I’d love to, she answers.”
“I reply, if not now, when?”