Snail Walk

The snail oozes across the flagstone.
Tiny. Slow.

A thin glaze of slime trails behind,
glistening in the late day sun.

Not unlike your own journey,
this snail’s travels. Far slower

than you would like, and yet, still
you arrive.

About this poem

Journeys never seem be as straight, or as fast as I imagine they should be. When I thought journeys were about the destination, that bothered me. Once I realized the journey is actually about the journey, it didn’t bother me any longer.

Tom
.