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User Rating: |
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8.4
/10
(7
votes)
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The snail pushes through a green
night, for the grass is heavy
with water and meets over
the bright path he makes, where rain
has darkened the earth's dark. He
moves in a wood of desire,
pale antlers barely stirring
as he hunts. I cannot tell
what power is at work, drenched there
with purpose, knowing nothing.
What is a snail's fury? All
I think is that if later
I parted the blades above
the tunnel and saw the thin
trail of broken white across
litter, I would never have
imagined the slow passion
to that deliberate progress.
Thom Gunn
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Read poems about / on: passion, power, work, rain, green, water, dark, night, hunting
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Comments about this poem (Considering the Snail
by
Thom Gunn
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Thom Gunn
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Simon Zonenblick
(4/21/2006 9:28:00 AM) |
Combines Heaney-esque accuracy and attention to physical detail, with a potent symbolism (a wood of desire, antlers, etc) highly illustrative of the poet's respect for the earth. A simple but wonderful poem that always cheers me up.
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Thom Gunn
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