Slowly on sunbeams.

Wow. It’s my birthday week and I feel like the snail.

[This only gets edited because wonderful Mr. Serrano sent me this poem which aptly describes not just my feelings but my sense about this whole process.]

Considering the Snail

The snail pushes through a green
night, for the grass is heavy
with water and meets over
the bright path he makes, where rain
has darkened the earth’s dark. He
moves in a wood of desire,
pale antlers barely stirring
as he hunts. I cannot tell
what power is at work, drenched there
with purpose, knowing nothing.
What is a snail’s fury? All
I think is that if later
I parted the blades above
the tunnel and saw the thin
trail of broken white across
litter, I would never have
imagined the slow passion
to that deliberate progress.

Copyright

from Collected Poems (Faber, 1994), by permission of the publishers, Faber & Faber Ltd and HarperCollins Publishers, Inc.

One thought on “Slowly on sunbeams.

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