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.
I wonder if Otis would be amused
ReplyDeleteat the sight of a slug
would he be confused
no shell to sniff
and push with his nose
unable to be tipped
the curiosity grows -
the slug slides along
a silvery path
one slug in a million
the dog does the math.