Thursday, February 4, 2010
The dew forms on the orchard,
In the evening with daylight slipping,
Otis fine tunes his curious snout
For a night of snail tipping.
He scans the pavement and the grass,
Like a powerful vacuum cleaner…
Detouring at the sight of a snail,
Humiliating the mollusk’s demeanor.
As if to make a statement,
Refusing to share a common ground,
Otis never leaves a snail alone,
Until it’s upside down.