Funny how close you can get to a turtle in a canoe, as those who might eat them tend to approach from above or below. Perhaps in silence — save for the reading of a poem by Natalie Diaz or one of our own composing — we move as tracelessly as the passing of days. The impress of human presence grows ever heavier, but those that dip lightly in lyric and paddle write the lines of kinship. Or maybe we remind them of a distant cousin they knew so long, long ago.
Welcome the Equinox in quiet awe. Turn off your phone.
Turtles by Kristin Zahra, poets by Jack using Kristin’s phone.