The Little Snail Goes Up

A little snail woke on a wet green leaf. Rain had just stopped. The world was soft and dripping and slow.

Up and up went the tall flower stem, all the way to the sky.

"I think I'll go up," the snail said. "Soft and slow."

So up she went. Soft and slow. One little foot, then a rest. One little foot, then a rest.

A dewdrop sat on the stem, round and shining like a tiny moon. The snail peeked inside and saw herself, small and round, peeking back.

"Hello, little me," she said.

Up and up. Soft and slow.

A beetle came down the other way, shiny as a green button.

"Where are you going?" asked the beetle.

"Up," said the snail. "Soft and slow."

"It is nice up there," said the beetle. "The wind is warm."

Up and up. Soft and slow. One little foot, then a rest.

Now the leaves grew smaller. Now she could see the whole wet garden below, glimmering. A snug little snail on a tall green stem.

At the very top, a flower opened wide. Pink and warm and cupped like two hands. The snail climbed in and the petals held her.

The snail curled her small soft body into a curl. Down came the evening, gold and low. The petals closed around her, gentle and slow.

Snug in the flower. Warm and gold. Soft and slow, soft and slow.

The garden hummed. The snail was home.