The Crossing

 On a dismal wintry feeling of a day I was delighted by this poem :


The Crossing
By Ruth Moose
 
The snail at the edge of the road
inches forward, a trim gray finger
of a fellow in pinstripe suit.
He’s burdened by his house
that has to follow
where he goes. Every inch,
he pulls together
all he is,
all he owns,
all he was given.
The road is wide
but he is called
by something
that knows him
on the other side.

2 comments:

Jan said...

"Delighted" is a good word to describe this poem. I love it!

Philomena Ewing said...

You are most welcome here Jan.
:)))