Hesitating, Hesitating, Slowly, Slowly
A tiny snail, this,
One horn long, one much shorter . . .
What troubles his heart?
~ Buson
Uncertainty is unattractive in
A man but in the little creatures it
Can be endearing like a lonely grin
At twilight where the new arrivals sit.
A near translucent snail holds two small horns
Aloft, one long, one short, as if the god
Of snaildom gave this head two softened thorns
To deal with life and death. These horns are awed
By almost all that come within their sense,
The smaller one much more, or so it seems.
This one especially desires defense
And wants to spare itself from toothed extremes.
The snail is shelled with hardness but it steals
Around, the long horn fearing what it feels.
~ Phillip Whidden