The Snail

by | Sep 4, 2006 | Poetry | 0 comments

A snail was resting in the grass
When all at once a shadow passed
Across his back, his head, his nose
His eyes once open now were closed.

“This is it” he cried aloud,
“I hope it’s just a passing cloud
That’s blocking out the sun above
Or maybe it’s my friend the dove
Who only eats some corn or stalks”
Unlike the wild ferocious hawks
Who swoop down swiftly on their prey
And eat them up without delay!
“I’ll run away” he thought at last
“And hide until the dangers past”

But that is not a thing snails do,
I’ve never seen one run, have you?
Today the snail is safe and sound
As only leaves fell all around
That made a carpet soft and warm
To keep him safe from dusk to dawn.


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