Snail stretches her neck out
between two bricks
and considers the world.
between two bricks
and considers the world.
Daisies blink the moonlight from their petals
and open themselves to the sun.
A frog reaches wide, webbed toes
towards a puddle – the last touch
of water on his skin until night brings rain again.
Ivy threads wave away from the wall
like cut kite strings searching for something to hold.
and open themselves to the sun.
A frog reaches wide, webbed toes
towards a puddle – the last touch
of water on his skin until night brings rain again.
Ivy threads wave away from the wall
like cut kite strings searching for something to hold.
Snail considers herself, wedged
in a dark gap in the wall.
She doesn’t need the nourishment of sunlight;
she is not the daisies.
in a dark gap in the wall.
She doesn’t need the nourishment of sunlight;
she is not the daisies.
It’s damp in the shade,
and Snail is moist in her shell.
She doesn’t crave the touch of rain;
she is not the frog.
and Snail is moist in her shell.
She doesn’t crave the touch of rain;
she is not the frog.
A glance down the wall shows
the paths she’s followed to the ground.
She is not confined;
she is not the ivy.
the paths she’s followed to the ground.
She is not confined;
she is not the ivy.
Snail reconsiders the world,
as she retracts back into her shell,
and decides to stay here
for today.
as she retracts back into her shell,
and decides to stay here
for today.
