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the tortoise and the hare
by Angela Thomasthere has to be something between one mile
an hour and then blazing lightening speed.
some kind of middle ground that can be covered
at a pace any respectable snail laying a trail of goo
on the floor would appreciate. it feels every grain
of sand as it moves, it goes so slow. the snail is known
for its shell, the only thing you ever really see -- a hard
exterior that seems immovable, impenetrable, impervious
to whatever happens. the actual snail is soft and venerable,
curled up inside the shell. it moves painfully slow over sand,
a far-in-the-future product of what happens when shells
are broken down. and as it moves, it feels everything.
but when you stop moving, you can't feel the ground
moving beneath you. you can't feel the grit. the pain. 12/20/2012 Posted on 12/21/2012
Copyright © 2024 Angela Thomas
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by LK Barrett on 12/21/12 at 04:24 PM The precision and rythmn of this observation is just right for its protagonist, "soft and venerable;" and the last couplet, as in all sonnets, makes the thing. Thank you! lk |
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