Sitting in my garden
I watch the indefatigable snail
As it inches its way
Along the fence,
Its feelers straining forward
Touching the surface
With the softest kiss
And now another
And another.
It reaches for the next panel,
Its body absorbed in the effort,
The sunlight glinting off its shell
And the silvery trail
Left in its wake.
The snail does not lament
Its short lifespan
Does not question its meaning
Does not overthink its task,
It simply searches
And leaves a shimmering doodle
To show where it has been,
A beauty spot
On the face of the universe.
As the sun goes down
I look up
And the snail has gone,
Slipped away unnoticed,
Nothing but silver lace
Shows it was ever here.
It has left its mark
Like graffiti carved into the night
Silent and anonymous.
My fingers trace the trail
Like jewellery around the neck
As I farewell one lone snail
And treasure the beauty.