Considering the Snail

Photo by Ralph (pexels.com)

Do you ever have days when you think you simply can’t bear to continue plowing through all the tasks ahead of you? When the light at the end of the tunnel appears so far away that it’s merely a dim flicker? I’ve often felt that way during the past year, despite repeatedly reminding myself that most these tasks are necessary steps toward achieving my goals, potentially helpful to others, or—if nothing else—character building.

Some say it’s money that makes the world go ‘round. Others say it’s love. More likely, it is a host of tedious, unglamorous tasks—the ones that keep our businesses running; our governments operating; our schools, libraries and hospitals open; our transportation systems functioning; our parks beautiful; and our children sheltered, fed, and clothed.

Perhaps the key to persevering through our endless daily tasks with courage, and maybe even passion, is to recognize just how heroically consequential so many of them are.

Considering the Snail

by Thom Gunn (1929—2004)

The snail pushes through a green
night, for the grass is heavy
with water and meets over
the bright path he makes, where rain
has darkened the earth’s dark. He
moves in a wood of desire,

pale antlers barely stirring
as he hunts. I cannot tell
what power is at work, drenched there
with purpose, knowing nothing.
What is a snail’s fury? All
I think is that if later

I parted the blades above
the tunnel and saw the thin
trail of broken white across
litter, I would never have
imagined the slow passion
to that deliberate progress.

Published in Selected Poems (Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2009)