Picture and a Poem from Liz

Myrtle the turtle
Crept down the hill
Expecting to find
A cool summer rill.

She sunk in the sludge
Thought it felt like a hug
Then gave a slow shrug
Unafraid of a flood.

A place to be alone.
In her perfect abode.
She's happy for Ole Bo's
Urging to the pond below.

Living her years serenely
In squashy pond debris.
Unlike you and me
She lives extremely free.

Now it is nearing fall
She'll soon head uphill
Back to the winter's still
Hidden deep on the hill..

If we were like Myrtle
We could chortle
When we find the fertile
Loam in time for fall..

Aha, soon time for sounds
Of spring to abound
Myrtle's Merry-go-Round
Goes on, up and down.
Liz