Turtle hatchlings
crawl
out of man-made nests,
testing out their limbs.
They pile
on top
of each other,
sand sticking to their new skin.
They fall and tumble
and flail about
on their backs
as they try to turn over.
They spill
out of baskets
onto the shore line,
dotting the sand in grey-black hearts
as they begin their journey home.
They slide down sand banks
and walk to water without
turning back
(save for the few that lose their way
and need to be turned back around).
It is remarkable,
almost magical,
that something so small
can make its way
to something so vast
purely by instinct.
Even the waves
fall gently,
caressing the shore,
washing the sand till it is soft,
like they are cleaning out the front porch
before welcoming
their children home.