The sunlight this morning urges me
to take a deep breath and enjoy it

in spite of everything. The very red
honeysuckle blooming by the house

seems to agree. On my walk I’m hoping
to meet one of the box turtles

who dare appear on our path
at this time of the year. Their ornately

painted carapaces are as unique as
human fingerprints. We’ve named them:

Abigail, Charlie, Ursula and Igor,
are some we’ve met since we moved

into their neighborhood. They’re among
the endangered species, so it can

make your day when you meet one
who’s surviving in spite of how we continue

to mutilate the world. I’ve read that animals
have on average about a billion and a half

heartbeats to use during their lives.
Field mice and birds use theirs up quickly,

as do Type A overachievers. Elephants
and turtles can take their time. We tend

to be the outliers, with our hearts thumping
more in total than most other animals

until our thumping stops. I think
of the poet, now dead, who spent

a lot of her thumps noticing things
like how the grasshopper on her hand

was chewing back and forth instead of
up and down. My 8-year-old daughter

asked how old our 3-year-old dog was
in people years. I told her she’s about 20,

so old enough to have babies, even though
she’s five years younger than you are.

She squinted at me for a moment
and nodded. Back at the house I wonder

how fast the ruby-throated hummingbird’s
heart is beating as it dips its tongue into

the very red honeysuckle we both love.

NOTE: This is Igor