The child open, curious,
smitten by snail, no
Indy 500 here just
idle, slow, spiralling of
slime and camouflage
and, the best,
housing is free.
Aha! There’s one
and
another and
this one
tiny and perfect,
look! look!
Tippytoeing on paths littered with
weed piles browning as
quack weed deepens, lengthens
luxuriously as
sunflower
dips lower, languidly.
Curious child still searching.
Hummingbird turns tail from
blossom and feeder to
winter wherever
(may it always have
nectar for humming!)
Leaves crispen and are
done, the sweatered child still
looking, unable to discard
dead empty shells,
gazes at
each one,
takes her bucket score to
plastic prison.
Poor things circle and climb
to find
a way anywhere:
patience of slimy years,
bitter leaves and sweet,
stones, dirt wet-dry,
grass and fern green solace.
length of pail is snail circled
all evening:
she left so fickle at dusk then,
lid removed,
snail parade: antennae wave
like royalty—
open, curious, smitten
with this big and awful world.
About the Author
Alice lives in the Kootenays on the Arrow Lakes enjoying a retired lifestyle. She is taking the second year of a wonderful Selkirk College creative writing course available on Zoom. Her garden, writing, connection with other writers and friends give her life joy and liveliness.
