A Sluggish Audience

The midday air indoors had grown too still, so I made my way outside through the cracked sliding screen to the garden. Upon a cool, damp stone bench, a plump garden snail was tracing its slow, glistening line across the moss. Such deliberate creatures appreciate patience. I crouched low, extending my arm so the silver disc of my pendulum hovered just inches before its twitching eye stalks. Left, right, left, right. The gleaming disc traced its measured arc. The snail ceased its glide, turning gently to follow the hypnotic shine, perfectly content to share my quiet, unhurried tempo.