A Snail's Slow Line

I walked further along the edge of the gravel path, where the damp morning dirt meets the green clover. A smooth, round garden snail was gliding across a flat gray stone. I stopped, keeping my feet very still so I wouldn't shake the ground. Beside the rock lay a tiny twig with two dry leaves. Slowly, I extended the tip of my trunk and rolled the little twig aside to give it a clearer way forward. The snail kept moving, leaving a faint shiny ribbon behind.