THE MIDNIGHT MARAUDER



 

With knobbed stalks,

the living house glides

slickly towards

 my vegetable patch.

Sensuous molecules

 Entice the footed-door

 where ribbed jaws

satisfy a craving.

There is no urgency.

There is no sound.

Eventually,

the primordial brain

detects dawn’s subtleness,

and the spiral-mansion

retraces its glazed path.

The snail has visited

 my cabbages AGAIN!

© J.Graham Ducker