Hunch

I follow it, the snail of thought

I leave the track, turn off this trail

I crouch in shadows, under ferns

I refuse to answer every bird

I see the liquid glister in its shell

I taste the wind

I smell the smoke of fire in the woods

I hear the crackle of a thousand thorns

I feel the temperature rising

I consider every option valid

I attend each phase

I crumble into wet, black ground

I lose my place in sand and gravel

I listen for the clash of weeds

I wonder where the snail will go today