Considering the Snail

I spotted this little creature under a hedge which, thankfully, was on top of a wall. I could never bend this low! It was very patient and kept perfectly still for me as I fumbled. As a mark of my respect, I looked for words that would honour it, and came across a poem with the same title by Thom Gunn on www.poetyryarchive.org.

Here is a bit of it:

[/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.]