Snail (For Jennifer)
Home is mobile
In the summer, in the rain
I carry this caravan on soft sleekit shoulders
transporting all my wares from A to Be.
Vital possessions amble along
in a tenacious syrupy shuffle
creating trails for locomotion
while I look for plants to eat.
Home is a shell
On a weary path I travel,
looking for a companion to meet my needs
to start a family and rest my feet.
Then I can hibernate for the winter
somewhere damp, wet and cold
where I can retreat into the dark
curl up in my curved carapace,
close the door,
and never grow old.
Home is what I carry on my back.