Snapping Turtle Nest

All fall you wait for the eggs 
to hatch, for the sight of a small carapace
scraping free. She laid them far from water

in a hole beside our drive. Now when water
from rain carves ruts, you think about eggs
in October earth. How little a carapace

can protect. How bones lie bare beneath,
thin and white as fools. How far from water
we all are, huddled in our tight eggs.

Worcester Review
Vol. 39   Fall 2018