Snails

What beauty do you see in every day, my stalk-eyed stalker, sticking slimy sludge? Like breadcrumbs, you leave snot to mark your way. To clear your path, give dandelions a nudge. What beauty do you see in so much time that it takes you to crawl from A to B? And do oyu slowly mark your trail of slime to track your trail again somethings to see? What beauty do I miss in every breath that you can spend an hour to admire? I envy you, though quickly lost to death you must persist in this, your one desire. I might in life hold simple things more holy if I observe them like you did: more slowly.