On a Sunday in the rain,
I hike the woodland trails.
Not only are they slick again
But thick with slugs and snails.
And those with shells and those without
Just lie there on the track,
And some of them are brown and stout
And others slim and black.
I wonder what they’re doing there –
Their purpose isn’t clear –
Then realise they’re everywhere,
So why not also here?
And, looking in the undergrowth,
I find a whole array of both.
Photo by Blake Cheek on Unsplash
