The asphalt’s warm beneath my feet,
And on this cold day it feels sweet.
Its warmness bids me to linger
Like a ring upon its finger.
But I remember what was said,
“Do not tarry, or you’ll be dead.”
A humming’s coming up the road;
What wicked things it does forebode.
A motorized predator nears,
I close my shell to hide my fears.
It passes. The wind rips me ’round,
And new motivation I’ve found.
The old ones speak of smashed brothers
And those carried off by others.
And once you’re grabbed, claws cannot free
A turtle from man’s treachery.
Now, some transport one safely o’er
The road, but turtles cross once more
Hoping for mercy as before,
Though often winding up as gore,
Since they didn’t forge their way
And thought the road was just for play.
I can no longer idly wait,
Hoping for a merciful fate.
But with speed not thought to possess,
On I must diligently press.
The water’s safety beckons me,
But the road is a stark sentry.
I can’t hide in my shell always,
Cursing my unknown yesterdays.
I needed to go ages past,
But feared the cars that drive so fast.
So many have proven that to reach
The water with its grassy beach
Where ev’ry turtle longs to be,
One has to sprint to victory,
Risking the cars that never slowed—
Almost certain death on the road.