A snail has left
his running stitch of silver thread
in long looping trails
on my path.
For A River of Stones
Sunday, January 30, 2011
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Tuesday Poem
Poetry, quilting and random comments on life, the universe and everything
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About Me
- Catherine
- She tried hard to be like the others/she struggled to catch a ball/she never quite managed a cartwheel/after much practice she stood on her head./When she grew up she turned to science/she thought she would turn the world upside down/after a while she realised that the world had stayed in its proper place all along/and she was still standing on her head.
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January
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- A River of Stones: January 31
- A River of Stones: January 30
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- Tuesday Poem: Patterns by Amy Lowell
- A River of Stones: January 24
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- A Giveaway
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- Tuesday Poem: Young Woman Marries the Farmer's Son...
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4 comments:
This is a lovely moment beautifully described!
A cool choice of metaphor. Like a snail tailor in the garden. A snailor, perhaps. :)
Gorgeous pictures you paint with your wonderful words. These little breif treasures are my favourite. I would love a collection of them, Catherine.
I love this description. I remember the first time I saw snail trails after moving to the Northwest (U.S.) - I had no idea what they were. Kind of gross and beautiful at the same time - perfect for a small stone!
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