Tuttle dreams
of climbing trees
and soaring with flights
of bumble bees,
stalking clouds and
shooting stars and
talking to the man from Mars.
But when he wakes
(and it’s not fair)
he’s on the ground, not
in the air.
He looks left and
then looks right
noticing it’s
Almost night.
He yawns and stretches
thinks, what the hell,
and pulls back
inside his shell.
Tuttle the turtle
nods off once more.
Being a turtle is
such a bore.
