Origin Poem by Keith Langdon

A fragrant trail meandered through sweet clover
behind the gangly fourteen-year-old.
With Zebco and battered tacklebox in hand,
he waded through the shin-high green
toward the bend in the creek
(he pronounced it “crick”) ,
where brilliant pumpkinseed, feisty bluegill,
and hook-swallowing yellowbellies
promised at least a distraction
on a warm summer afternoon.
Near the stand of trees it caught his eye –
A weathered post, chest-high,
scarred with rusty remnants of barbed wire and staples,
held aloft an earth-toned turtle.
Suspended in an alien world,
its prunish legs, sun-dried,
slowly paddled the unresisting air
as it futilely strained toward the scent of muddy water.
Like an infant lying on her milk-rounded belly,
it flailed helplessly, instinctively, almost mechanically,
as it labored to reach the unattainable.
The boy stared, briefly,
then heroically lifted the condemned hostage to freedom,
and watched it plod slowly toward the promise of new life.
A turtle on a fencepost…
For several minutes the boy theorized, imagined, calculated,
supposed, and questioned the origin
of that which he had seen.
A turtle on a fencepost…
Then he yielded to the only obvious and undeniable fact –
knowing nothing else, he assured himself of this –
it was placed there by Someone’s hand.