one by one
we pick up snails
and put them in the grass
to avoid them being trampled underfoot or wheel
where are they headed
these sluggish beasts carrying their worldly belongings on their backs
trekking across dangerous paths
do they know what there is on the other side
does the journey matter more than the destination
what do they think
as they hang airborne for a while
under our fingers giving them a lift ?
they curl straight up as soon as we lay them down
setting out to slime
they fly
and are afraid
have we helped or hurt?
their homes look so sturdy
yet with one step of our boot
they crack
their bodies reduced to lifeless slime
mixed in with bits of shell
to avoid this
we pick them up and put them away
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