Writings by Gayle Boss

Turtle

Advent 1

The day is bright and warm for December 1, but the logs in the marsh pond are bare. Spring to summer into early fall they served, on sunny days, as spa to a dozen or so painted turtles. Basking, slay-legged, they would stretch their leathery necks out full length, avid for every luscious atom of sun-light and sun-warmth.

Out of sight now, they’ve not escaped the harsher cold that’s coming. Read more…