I am but a Snail

Heather Pease

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.