the snail desires
the greenest leaf
of the reddest rose
of the backyard garden
however at dawn
he turns right
rather than left
and slides south
rather than north
until he reaches
the shadowed park
across the street
where he nibbles
light green leaves
of yellow peonies
no longer hungry
he sleeps
within the bed
of the rich loam
of the well-cared
for public garden
and dreams
of the greenest leaf
of the reddest rose