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Early Morning Rain

In the yard,

you felt sorry for the slug

that crept so slowly up the stem

of one of your greens.

Poor thing,

it doesn’t even have a shell

to call a home.


I compared it with its cousin,

the snail, several of which will

gather in the garden

after an early morning rain –


in the swirly cave it carries

on its back,

a place to retract its head in

when it pours,

feigning it isn’t there, perhaps,

should a desperate, homeless mollusk

come to call,

knowing there isn’t

any room

for two,

and yet burdened

by that extra weight,

its inability to travel

wherever it may wish,

at its turtle-like, sloth-like pace,

like a car that’s always pulling

a camper/trailer,

never having the mettle

to face the world

when things get tough,

even ducking in its hovel

when there isn’t a cloud

in the sky.

Andreas Gripp

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