At A Snail’s Pace Recovering

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In a dried out leaf, juicelessly veined,a snail snuggles. I envy the snail. Wordlessness is its normal condition, nothing to struggle with. It has a single sliding foot and a thousand microscopic teeth embedded in its tongue. Its sheltering leaf is on a plant that grew alongside the cracking cement of my walkway, the walkway of a 110 year old house. The snail won’t live long out here, but longer than I’d guessed. Three years maybe. In captivity it can live 15. Is it worth it?