Thick, Brazilian nut-like pods plainly
Dressed in humble browns and beiges,
Unlike his cousin the snail who only
Wears decorative shells. Proud is he,
For enduring spring's rain better
Than the worm.

Common place and everywhere you step
Hiding behind foliage shunning
The sun. Preferring to melt into the earth.
Secreting a sticky mess for followers
To emulate and others to clean up.
Hanging eyes oblivious to the world around

Sliming along without ambition,
Performing life's menial rituals.
Change and challenge are absent
In mundane travels with no excursions
From the pencil-lined journey.

Infiltrating without thought or thank you,
Inviting multitudes of relatives whom
Eat holes in well-planned gardens.
Out of the house I come, The Gardener,
Fed up with spraying this and that.
Armed and ready for battle with my
Saltshaker, I pour down on two
Eyes that don't even look up.

 Photo credit: Upsplash, Inc.