The Turtle Rescuer

I watch for turtles crossing the street, The turtle not realizing how dangerous the feat. If a fast pace it cannot run, Its life here on earth soon will be done. I see a turtle crossing a street, Scrambling so slowly on its tiny feet. It dawdles so slowly, the cars driving by, If I don’t help it, who then will try. The turtle doesn’t have much of a chance, Not knowing which car will end its last stance. So I stop when I see one no matter the time, And pick it up gently as if it were mine, I then find a safe place where it can roam, Hoping deep down that it makes it to home. Some drivers think it a sport, The turtle to trample, not caring the turtle is temporal. What makes them do it where is the joy, It is just a small turtle not some plastic toy. Some people enjoy smashing it in, But there is no need to hurt a small terrapin. As I travel the highway it isn’t long, Before I see something up ahead, What is that small thing on this road I tread? And if it’s a turtle I hope it’s not dead! Is it too late or is there still time, To rescue the small turtle while still in its prime. I stop my car and find it alive, With its head in its shell pulled deep inside. Its legs and the tail also tucked in, Feeling so scared and hiding within. While I am waiting the cars drive by fast, I find myself fretting the next car may be the last. The turtle’s chances diminish with each passing car, So I patiently wait to go get it and move it safely afar. Who gave me this job and why do I care, I don’t know why but the desire is there. If I can rescue but one and send it safely away, It just makes me happy that I helped it live at least one more day. Ken Haines 12/09