Snail Watching on a Saturday Evening

Lauren Wahlstrom, Junior, Educational Studies & English, Laguna Niguel, CA

At twilight, my eyes spy nature’s Glue-Stick.

A slow, squishy soft Sweetheart lumbering

smoothly off a ginger leaf. Its swirly

spirals of golden shell bear-semblance to

Athena’s ornately armored Helmet.

I watch it plop into the shaded grass.

 

I survey its sticky trail as it goes,

Devoted to the adventure ahead.

Glistening gluey residue secretes

Secrets out from under you—a visible

trail of breadcrumbs spills sticky whispers as

to where you are headed next. Light oak-bark

deepens in shade as your jelly-belly

gently slides over its craggy dry nooks.

 

My small, outstretched hands signal you to stay! —

Sliding farther and farther away

from your comfy green home, you

trek towards a cracked stony path

where blades of disorderly weeds impede

your travel shadows dance and dash in frenzy

fast Hurry the World’s blaring vibrations

reverberate through your supple skin and

Screams of honking cars and heavy-footed passerbys

Crush through the congested fevered air. Still,

 

You are Constant in the cacophony,

oozing Steadfast warmth as you push on through 

toward growing grass and smooth ginger leaves.

Unfazed and unmatched, you fixate soft eyes

Upward. Ever mellow, I spy you slide

past the blinking street lights and rusted signs. 

My fondness lies in your slow and steady

devotion.