love in small doses | |||||||||||
beer mat accounts coruh counting days floreal getting started he has feigned since i sat love in small doses pure spring came she who so sweet was solace souls in sparks untouchable the watch your window on the world |
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The snail pushes through a green night, for the grass is heavy with water and meets over the bright path he makes, where rain has darkened the earth's dark. He moves in a wood of desire, pale antlers barely stirring as he hunts. I cannot tell what power is at work, drenched there with purpose, knowing nothing. What is a snail's fury? All I think is that if later I parted the blades above the tunnel and saw the thin trail of broken white across litter, I would never have imagined the slow passion to that deliberate progress. (Thom Gunn, Considering the Snail.) |
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