I wouldn't mind being
a tortoise, slow-moving,
land-dwelling on an island,
yet close to the warm blue sea.
My thick, hard shell would protect me
from various predators. I can just
sink into the sand, pull my head in,
duck down, no need to worry about
My brain is too small.
Instead, I would live to one hundred and fifty years,
long enough to become an oracle,
my wordless spirit song connecting
the sea with the sky.