THE MIDNIGHT MARAUDER



 

 

With knobbed stalks,

the living house glides

slickly towards

 my vegetable patch.

 

Sensuous molecules

 Entice the footed-door

 where ribbed jaws

satisfy a craving.

 

There is no urgency.

There is no sound.

 

Eventually,

the primordial brain

detects dawn’s subtleness,

and the spiral-mansion

retraces its glazed path.

 

The snail has visited

 my cabbages AGAIN!




© J.Graham Ducker




 

 

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