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The Hawaiian Sea Turtle ring made to any size 28 grams = 1 oz. solid silver. Top is 1 inch by 1 inch.Baby turtle along the sides and flower garden surounds the ring. Please let me know if you want the bronze turtle or the solid silver turtle. All solid materials, not plated. The Sea Turtle Poem: She will not look up, not yet: There is too much to do. Across and above the surrounding beach Gulls wheel, pivoting on wingtips Over restless hawaiian waves.
Crashing surf propels her, Pushing her to heated sand. She responds to generations, One hundred million linked together Year over year.
Neck cords stretched, parrot beak gaping, She struggles against this grainy stuff. Far easier, water, cool and inky, Where she sails and dives at will. Not so here
Under the blazed sky, the sun Bakes her back. Bones under the shell Feel the slow torment. She must hurry, Push these flailing legs onward: She is not done.
Her shell scrapes the stones, and her claws, Splayed and hard, sweep the grains. Inch by inch, she wills herself along Until she discovers that special place True to her.
Behind and beyond, in near and far spaces Children gather shells, crack into buckets Stuff of stars, squeal when they meet The scuttling crab, dance to scatter The regarding gulls.
Beyond, hunched and encroaching, the gates Consume it raw, the belly Bends and twists the iron, the stacks Shove smoke skyward, and the drains Void the waste.
Behind the gulls, stabbing the blue, Electrons squeal, data screams. Costs and purchases, shares and deals Shriek across the horizon, binding the skies For this time.
Her eyes blink and glitter, A tiny sun pinned in each black. Against the odds, she gains the appointed space, Pushes her old rump into the hot, receiving earth, And begins.
Her head sweeps back and forth; She gathers up the landscape, Edge of rock and water, embracing ages, Whole populations rising and dwindling To here and now.
Armies and children, joys and scourges – These do not find their way Behind her eyes. Light and water, Time and heat, instinct and discipline Guide her here.
She works now under circling gulls. Sand will not reveal the destroyer, Eggs scattered and exposed. Sky will not say Which beak will pierce which infant. She must lay sufficient.
Under the watching world, she withdraws, Covers the clutch, heaves herself downward To the sea. She will never see these children, Nor know whether it will be three, or two, Or one only
Who pulls itself from its shell Who scrabbles across sand and avoids diving birds Who gains the receiving depths Who survives the predatory onslaught who grows and mates and feels then the purpose Who crawls upon this beach One hundred million and one Returning her ancient promise.
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