The snail's journey

The snail moves,
slow, deliberate,
across stone and grass,
carrying time upon its back.

It remembers—
soft echoes of rain,
sunlight spilling gold,
whispers of earth beneath its touch.

Its wisdom hums low,
a song of patience,
of quiet steps avoiding roads,
of bridges left uncrossed.

It pauses, speaks—
words curling like tendrils of mist,
counsel to the wandering,
to those seeking new soil,
to those who call the river home.

The snail moves on,
steady as memory,
never lost, never hurried,
always listening.