I make for shore, full urgent,|
Away from where I’m queen.
I swim in emerald elegance;
I traverse in liquid green.
My strokes are sure and measured--
My shell and flippers strong.
Fraught with peril is this endeavor,
But I cannot resist ‘ere long.
I must have heat; I need the warmth
Of the sun to make my magic--
Even if this risk between the realms
Turns injurious or tragic.
So I crawl on my belly with quickening haste
To where potential and fate will incubate.
I leave behind me my legacy—
Each egg a prayer or poem:
A bit of me, my salt-drenched memories,
A sea-map of my home.
By Virginia Woods
© 2012 Virginia Woods
(All rights reserved)