by Pavel Chichikov
Old bull turtle, ridges on your tail
Dragon, goblin, swamp phantasm
The dogs respect you
From one bog to the other drag
Your long fat tail with dragon ripples on it –
Traffic waits
Hooked your beak, you hold it up
Your eyes see inward maybe, feet are splayed
And powerful
No one wants to test your snapping reflex,
Trespass on the frontier
Of your inner peace
Traffic waits and idles while you cross
From one side to the other of the road –
It could take hours
Meanwhile as an ancient anthem
One old bull frog notes and notes again
A twang profound
Slow and steady blows the basso bullfrog march
To honor reptile majesty – it could
Take days
You are the grey-skinned sacred relic of the altar
Of the first old Church –
We venerate and wait, swamp bishop
Visit Pavel's website at Grey Owl Press.