This rain will bring them out. Now, garden-shoed
umbrellaed, bucketed and sugar-tonged
she moves through dripping fuchias. Silver trails
stop suddenly, just short of somewhere. Soon
unwary, tonged-up predators will ooze,
silent, terminal and green along
the bottom of the bubbling bucket. Snails
live briefly in this risky eden where
she swoops and seizes – sudden as a gull.

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