The Shell in a Tree


 I spied it by the path as I walked by;

The shell of a box turtle,

Quite empty, but for a leaf

Frost-frozen to the plastron.

The carapace was chipped.

A hungry predator had gnawed it

But, foiled by ancient design,

Had left it for an easier meal.

And so the turtle had wandered on.

And time had polished the sharp edges

Of the shell that I picked up and wedged 

In the burl of the tree.


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