Keep distance, the Snail said,
I don't feel safe with humans around
and my pace makes me so vulnerable.

He took a deep breath and added,
do you ever feel my toil
to move from place to place
while the winds blow in gusts
and the world passes by like a storm?

My minutes tick like your hours
and hours days
as I climb the mountains of walls
cover furlongs of ground
rest and restart
never really knowing
where the path ends.

And you only add to my woes.

Your prank of a kick
rolls me back and down
all the way
to beyond from where I began.

A teardrop gathered in his opal eyes.

But it really doesn't matter,
a smile broke through the tears,

I see with all your pace
you're so far from happiness.

Many strange things in my time I have seen
What I see now may seem extreme
I sit in the garden by a small bungalow
They both stand together, a cat and a crow.
What I see is an unbelievable sight
The cat walks away, the crow takes flight
I return again the very next day
Together they stand in the very same way.
The cat is at peace and so is the crow
They are both too old, and very slow
The crow it stays in the same oak tree
And the cat can no longer run easily.
So within this garden they both now reside
Weak and feeble, yet still alive.
Maybe they've lost the will to ****
Or simply they both have had their fill.
But there is a lesson that is clear to see
If they can live in peace, so can we.

The rain pelted the roof of the car
Like so many caps being popped
by eager children with hammers.

Somewhere deep within the night
a train whistle blew
near tracks that run through
the middle of town.

One long lonesome tone
moving, echoing, merging with my heart.

“We're home, we're home,”
his voice gently waking me,
running his hands along my thighs
urging me to stir.

The caps popped away
I fought the discomfort of movement
My heart yearned for one
one more whistle blow.