The Sleepy Little Snail

In the garden, under a big green leaf, there lived a small round snail. Her shell was smooth and swirly, curled like a tiny sleeping cloud. The evening was soft. The evening was slow. The little snail came out to say goodnight. She slid along the cool wet stone, slow and slow and slow. A drop of dew slipped down. A moth flew by. The garden hushed. "Goodnight, tall grass," the little snail said. And the tall grass swayed. Swish, swish, soft and slow. She slid past the daisies, closed up tight for the night, tucked in like little folded hands.