A Patient Traveler

A faint silver glimmer caught my attention near the terracotta fern pot. Lowering myself onto the warm red bricks, I found a tiny garden snail inching steadily across the rough rim. It moved without the slightest hurry, leaving a shining trail in its wake. Just ahead of its path lay a dry, curled twig. Moving deliberately, I pressed one paw against the splintered wood and gently nudged it aside onto the moss. The snail paused, raised its slender antennae, and kept on gliding forward. I rested quietly by the edge of the planter, content to share the slow, silent rhythm of the afternoon.