Today I was in the back yard and tucked into a boxwood branch was a leaf that caught my attention.

It looked as if it had been crocheted. A lacy pattern constructed without a pattern. 

Lifting it up to admire it, I saw it had a resident. A tiny snail. The artist. Can you spot him?

I watched him for a time as he glided across his canvas. Crossing from one side to the next. I turned the leaf slowly in my hand. He made his way to my thumb. I moved it several times but he insisted investigating it. So I allowed him.

I watched to see if I could see him touch first or feel him touch. I saw him touch before I felt it. A kiss of a touch.

I tucked him safely into a planter and brought the leaf inside to keep. To remember this day.

I saw a little snail

Come down the garden walk.

He wagged his head this way – that way-

Like a clown in a circus.

He looked from side to side

As though he was from a different country.

I have always said he carries his house on this back-

To-day in the rain

I saw that it was his umbrella!

Hilda Conkling (Poems by a Little Girl 1919)

Enjoy. Katey