The whorl of spiral shells

Snails Outrace The Sun

Snails outrace the sun as morning spills across the wet lawn.
It will take them nearly all of it to reach the shade of succulents.
Stars trail behind them like comet glisten; broken glass catching
the light just so. Contrails stream along the slick green blades.

They will shelter and recoil into the whorl of spiral shells, rest
until dayfall summons them out into the dampening twilight
that comes with its spray of slow milk. They will watch it all
as very little passes overhead without their sluggish witness.



Owls will arrive and alight, evacuate their dark turrets in the
boughs before dawn rescinds their vigil from the far horizon.
This is how it has always been done. Snails outrace the sun to
leave you with the morning; no trace of crumb to point you home.

Joseph Gallo
July 8, 2009