Let me note this morning I came

across a coin, I thought, crossing

Tully Road. Once a path for local

soldiers. Farmers mostly. And nut

gatherers. Its face looked more like

a quarter. Washington’s. Until I looked

more closely. Actually kneeled down.

To see what I saw was the coin-sized

back of a turtle. Newly hatched.

It was so tiny and innocent. Moving,

at a pace, it seemed like it was walking.

And didn’t need my help. Except

for the rumbling I heard. A truck

I knew was sent to grade the muddy road.

Each spring, spring comes again. Like now.

When the ditch becomes our Delaware.

For future presidents and babies I want

to hold in my hand. Carry them to safety.

Over there in the swampy woods. More

likely they’re meant to survive. My taking

this one by surprise. Asking myself

if I should leave it where I found it.

Or knowing what I know about a tire’s

road repair. Pick it up and put it down,

somewhere where it doesn’t know it’s going.

I don’t want to think of as my country.

Shell of itself and snapping tail.

Even if it’s so small you can hardly tell

what it is. A penny or a dime. A nickel

or a quarter. Any change asked for.

By any one of us. Homeless and out

of work. Carrying roofs on our backs.

Sticking our necks out for this democracy.

Gary Margolis

Cornwall