Poems by Susan Vidd

With dimming light and hours passed
They are awakened and quickly amassed
From within deep corners and underground
In multitudes of numbers they are found.

Moving stealthily with grace and speed
A Major General in the lead,
Headed for nutrients hidden away
Leftovers from meals enjoyed that day.

Running in shadows up and down
Gaining in numbers from 'round the town,
I lay in my bed awakened from sleep
Their army of movement with steps that run deep.

One flip of the light and a moment of scurry
So fast they move to safety they hurry
With disbelief at their size and number
So large they wake me from deep in slumber.

My eyes grow wide even though blurry
But seeing me now THEY no longer worry.
I have encountered roaches that live in Florida
But this lively group was quite different, sorta;

For the Iowa roaches so huge in the dark
Footprints were left as they made their mark.
I swear they had teeth that were wide and white
Seen from afar they required no light.

So different were they from the Florida bug
Who wore bikinis, smiled and welcomed a hug.
They were spared the reference of roach
But rather a Palmetto with a lovely falsetto.

This is the story of our first night rental
In an old Iowa house which would drive me mental
For the lady who owned the house had smoked so much
The giant roaches were yellow and such.

To say the least we left shortly after
As we closed the door the roaches would gather
On the floor on walls and even the rafter
From behind that door, I swear we heard laughter!

It was merely happenstance
As I walked about my home
To note the movement in the grass
Of a creature with a dome.

Cautiously I moved forward
Steady was my pace.
It was hard to see just what it was,
The turf had masked its base.

To my surprise it was a turtle;
Indigenous to Ohio.
Identification revealed colorful markings
According to its bio.

It is known as the painted turtle
And it was headed for the street.
Turn around my little friend,
Move those little feet.

It was determined as ever
to continue on its quest.
But I knew its direction
Should be south and not northwest.

It moved closer to the road
Where cars were speeding by.
I could not let it continue
There was a good chance it would die.

I picked up the painted turtle
Who had traveled, oh, so far,
The lake from whence it came is south,
Not north beneath a car.

I placed it on brown pebbles
At the baseline of our lake
Convinced it now would settle;
A good deed for its own sake.

It was never its intention
To rest upon that shore.
No sooner had I turned around,
It was on the move once more.

Frustrated I stop and take a glance
To see my neighbor smirking.
He approached me with a smile and said
"What you did is just not working."

He told me of her history
"I know she will not rest.
She is compelled to keep on moving -
Two years my yard reserved her nest."

Well, I will carry her across the street
To the soft grasses of that nest,
Then it must be out of my hands
As nature's plan is best.

But, I just can't seem to let it go.
I look for her each day.
She will return to my lake
In early June or May.

Turtles are smarter than you think.
She boasts a colorful mark.
It is quite possible she will cross the street
And make it safely to my park.

There is an instinct within us all.
It seems to be very strong.
By helping her to cross that street,
I pray I was not wrong.