Short Read: A Snail’s Search, Part VIII

It was the kind of day that snails celebrate: not too hot, and steamy with humidity. As the very small snails gathered at the White, two were talking excitedly. A snail with a spiral shell was aflutter, repeatedly asking about the Legend. Another tiny snail was waving her antennae nonstop, proclaiming that she had heard that someone had been told that the Legend had been sighted. Sophie took the chatter in with a bemused smile, then said, “little snails, gather around – we have news about Gaston!”

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Haiku: Mercurial Mammatus

A strong storm blew in yesterday – the kind that made me wish I’d shut the solid coop door (often open for airflow this time of year, with the chickens safe behind a wire-covered “screen” door). The rain pounded the earth in slanted sheets, and the trees’ limbs flailed in the whipping wind. Thunder rattled the glassware in the china cabinet and I steered clear of the windows, wary of the brilliant flashes of lightning.

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