MATINS OF A SLUG
I move in you, Creative God, then rest,
And rest again -- to ponder what is best.
You've loved me into being slow and strange,
And I give thanks and do not care to change.
Ten thousand years ago you gave us eyes
So we could slide about without surprise,
But slow -- while other folks go rushing on:
Those racing snails! that tortoise marathon!
But I give thanks for being just a Slug
Who answers all harassments with a shrug;
A little damp, a little weed to eat,
A little ooze, and, ah! my life's complete.
All praise to God, Stillpoint outside of time,
I love the comfort of your sacred slime,
I rest serene within your placid calm,
And dedicate to you this sleepy psalm.
from the forthcoming book Prayers of 100 Animals A to Z, by William Cleary