I am but a Snail

A snail starting her day,

probably doesn't worry

about the weight

of everything she carries.

Does not agonize

over the size

of her shell.

She knows she grew

into it which took time

as did making it into a home.

she has no capacity

for regret

Her life is leisurely

slow;

spends her favorite days

sliding slick on a sidewalk,

wet

from a fresh rain.

She sleeps when its cold,

wants to stay sodden.

I imagine she can sing,

her shell humming along

She’s quite the mover.

Treasures her ancestors

from the sea

Troubles herself

over the nitty-gritty,

she is always a

good neighbor.

If she's picked up

by a stranger,

she recoils into safety

and in all these ways,

I appreciate

her fortitude and how

she thrives

in a world wanting

her to be anything,

except

what she is.