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My world is measured, inch by silver inch, I do not leap, I do not even flinch. My home, a spiral, rides upon my back, I travel slowly on a glistening track. Tonight, I climbed the tallest hosta leaf, A journey that defied all disbelief, To watch the party from my verdant spire, And fill my tiny heart with secret fire. I saw the Flower-Cat, so bold and grand, The undisputed master of the land. He dug for treasures with a happy sound, And spread a sense of comfort all around. His stripe, a beacon in the moon's soft light, A slash of white against the dark of night. I wished I had his confidence and grace, To feel so perfectly at home in any place. And then the Queen, the Silver-Faced and wise, Appeared with ancient knowledge in her eyes. She moved as if the garden were her soul, And knew the secret name of every vole. Her tail, a marvel, held her in the air, A silent anchor, free of every care. I watched her gentle, slow, and knowing smile, And wished that I could be that wise, for just a while. Then, from the stars, a velvet shadow fell, And cast a truly captivating spell. The Sky-Puppy, a dancer in the dark, Who bore upon his wings a joyful spark. He spoke in clicks, he laughed a silken sound, And saw the world while hanging upside down. He flew! He soared! A feat I'll never know, Confined to my deliberate path below. They gathered there, a trio of the night, And shared their friendship in the pale moonlight. They spoke of things I'll never understand, Of sky and earth and all the hidden land. I was not jealous, only filled with awe, That I was there to witness nature's law— The law that states that even in the dark, A friendship can ignite a hopeful spark. My view, a single leaf. My speed, a crawl. And yet, tonight, I felt I saw it all. The grandest party, not of pomp or sound, But of the quiet love that they had found. And as I start my journey, slow and deep, Down the slick leaf, while all the world's asleep, My silver trail will shine beneath the moon, A silent poem, a forgotten tune. A tiny testament that I was there, A secret that the garden lets me share.
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Dec 4, 2025
Dec 4, 2025 at 11:28 AM UTC
The Snail on the Sidelines (Part Five)
My world is measured, inch by silver inch, I do not leap, I do not even flinch. My home, a spiral, rides upon my back, I travel slowly on a glistening track. Tonight, I climbed the tallest hosta leaf, A journey that defied all disbelief, To watch the party from my verdant spire, And fill my tiny heart with secret fire. I saw the Flower-Cat, so bold and grand, The undisputed master of the land. He dug for treasures with a happy sound, And spread a sense of comfort all around. His stripe, a beacon in the moon's soft light, A slash of white against the dark of night. I wished I had his confidence and grace, To feel so perfectly at home in any place. And then the Queen, the Silver-Faced and wise, Appeared with ancient knowledge in her eyes. She moved as if the garden were her soul, And knew the secret name of every vole. Her tail, a marvel, held her in the air, A silent anchor, free of every care. I watched her gentle, slow, and knowing smile, And wished that I could be that wise, for just a while. Then, from the stars, a velvet shadow fell, And cast a truly captivating spell. The Sky-Puppy, a dancer in the dark, Who bore upon his wings a joyful spark. He spoke in clicks, he laughed a silken sound, And saw the world while hanging upside down. He flew! He soared! A feat I'll never know, Confined to my deliberate path below. They gathered there, a trio of the night, And shared their friendship in the pale moonlight. They spoke of things I'll never understand, Of sky and earth and all the hidden land. I was not jealous, only filled with awe, That I was there to witness nature's law— The law that states that even in the dark, A friendship can ignite a hopeful spark. My view, a single leaf. My speed, a crawl. And yet, tonight, I felt I saw it all. The grandest party, not of pomp or sound, But of the quiet love that they had found. And as I start my journey, slow and deep, Down the slick leaf, while all the world's asleep, My silver trail will shine beneath the moon, A silent poem, a forgotten tune. A tiny testament that I was there, A secret that the garden lets me share.
From a witness that would usually be food.
Silfrinlogi
Written by
44/M/Central Washington
Dec 4, 2025
Dec 4, 2025 at 11:28 AM UTC
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