Tuck, or Maybe Roll

Grey armor slated overlapping just so,
Tapered legs reaching for the next green stalk of grass.
Unafraid when I slip my pen under his feet
When all others of his kind would curl into inconsequence.

He is unafraid, and I marvel at that.
Like Clarisse McClellan, unafraid.

And when I set him down
Upon this very sheet of paper
Those tapered legs and furry feet
Scrambled, quick as could be,
never tripping over tricky lines,
until he reached the edge
and threw himself off
unafraid as always--