SLUG

A homeless snail appears
out of eventide's gloaming.
Delicately ribbed body
in variegated brown
glistens beneath golden arc
of garden lantern:
slithers soundlessly, hunger-driven,
towards greenhouse larder.

Eyes follow your trail in reverse.
An indirect route map of silver
that plays with imagination.
Is it a Faery Path?
If I shrink and walk it
will it lead me into another World -
your World,
where I can learn your ways,
perhaps even earn your friendship?

For although in forms so utterly diverse,
this journey through life we share:
two Spirits woven from a single thread
of Sacred Divinity.
And I so love you, little brother,
and will shield you as best I can
from all the heartless barbarity
inherent in my kind;

whose lethal poisons would leave you writhing
in indescribable agony - your punishment
for needing to eat; and for offending
aesthetic sense of  'civilised' race,
who've decided you have no right
to sully 'their' beautiful land.
And they have the audacity
to call you abhorrent?

Little one, in your innocence I see
a beauty unique, unrivalled.
You have no eyes to see me
so I gently stroke your back, just
to say 'I'm here, and I care.'
You cringe violently - could it be
from the warmth of my hand,
or is it that instinctive fear
of human cruelty, common
to so many species on Earth?

And who could blame you if it were?
Limbless and with no means of defence,
you're an easy target for the Spiritually blind
who would delight in squashing you underfoot,
oblivious to what they're destroying:
an irreplaceable work of art
lovingly crafted by the hand of God.