A rabbit poses no match for the turtle.
This we learned as toddlers.
But it’s not about the race,
though time is a factor.
Time turns a clever corner
when turtle temperature drops.
In the pond’s muddy underworld,
heartrate recedes
to one beat in minutes.
Breathing moves to the tail
and nearly stops.
Digestion slows to a halt.
Meanwhile negligible senescence,
a further hitch in time,
leaves even centenarian organs
untouched by age’s cruel decline.
Should wonder need a further nudge,
remember the house the turtle wears,
a weight she drags cross field and pond
but promptly makes a home of infinity
and beyond.
So while the rabbit smugly snoozes,
our hearts stay rooted further on
with this reptilian time machine,
a figure of divine invention,
her carapace, her plastron,
and everything in between
built to sweeten the morsels of time
as they mellow and grow deeper.
First published in Armarolla October 11, 2018