To a Snail

Leisurely, the snail goes by, Through green leaves and drifting petals, In measured time, on a journey slow, Mapping out dew-kissed trails, glistening paths, Gazed at by passing sparrows, sunbeams, and clouds. You slide on, dear wanderer, Each glistening footfall, a testament to patience, As you traverse through lush fields of emerald grass, Bringing joy in your soft, gliding hand.

• Marianne Moore