Robbi Nester is a retired college educator who lives and writes in Southern California. She is the author of four published books of poetry and editor of three anthologies. She also curates two poetry reading series. An elected member of the Academy of American Poets, she has published poetry and reviews in many journals, anthologies, and litblogs. Robbi’s website may be found at http://www.robbinester.net
In a small town, sheltered in the shadow
of a mountain, the turtles make their yearly
journey, trundling like tiny tanks across the road,
making front page news. It isn’t the procession’s
length or stately pace that draws attention,
but the carnage made by pickups full of hay,
school buses packed with squealing children.
By migration’s end, the trail is bloody, strewn
with shattered shells, slick with guts.
The turtles aren’t deterred: they keep on
heading for the woods, though to our eyes,
it’s only scrawny pines on either side.