I’m sorry for it too, my dear,
and I promise you

in this poem there will be
no dead squirrels on the road.

In here you’ll see them leaping
happily from tree to tree.

And look —a turtle in the middle
of that road

is going to make it to the green
on the other side. Drivers are stopping

their cars and smiling as they wait
for turtle to go slowly to her paradise.

So you see, today’s her lucky day,
and tomorrow could be lucky too.

Or maybe not. But it isn’t tomorrow yet,
my dear. The squirrels, the turtles,

you, and me —with this bright bit of time
shining inside us—everybody’s fine.