Banana Slug

[summer_jackel]

In the last spring storms, the slugs roamed freely
sliding graceful, bright-skinned across this forest floor.
Fungus and water and they,
readying these woods for another growing year,
eating
Slow and tender. In the cold times, in the moist times
in every patch of sorrel, quietly at work, at life.
And the cold went long this year.
And the spring came weak and tremulous.
But in these April storms sang flowers,
new green grass and still
the great spotted gastropods, yellow as joy.

And the sun dawned warm today.
Spring gone fierce and full, unthirsty.
There will be no slugs; they have traveled down the canyon
Made their quiet dens, blanketed in earth and slime
curled close, resting
wating to embrace this tired world
dreaming of renewal, and the rain times.