Snail's Pace Poem by Paul Archer

It had climbed from the lavender
Under the open window
And now creeps along the sill,
I think of Hughes' thought-fox
And Lowell's skunk,
Then slow down...

Slow down, for something
Going at its pace the world
Is so fast... my snail's feelers probe
Tentatively ahead, I heave
Myself over the minutest obstacles
Leaving a silvery trace...

My godlike hand plucks the snail
And tosses it out - 'Don't even think
About living in MY house
Without paying any rent, huh! '
In that also, it may be said
That I am godlike.