The Crossing

The snail at the edge of the road   
inches forward, a trim gray finger   
of a fellow in pinstripe suit.                                 
He’s burdened by his house      
that has to follow   
where he goes.  Every inch,   
he pulls together   
all he is,                                                
all he owns,                                                      
all he was given.                                          

The road is wide                                                      
but he is called                                                               
by something                                                      
that knows him                                                                  
on the other side.

Copyright Credit: Poem copyright © 2004 by Ruth Moose, whose most recent book of poetry is The Sleepwalker, Main Street Rag, 2007. Reprinted from 75 Poems on Retirement, edited by Robin Chapman and Judith Strasser, published by University of Iowa Press, 2007, by permission of the author and publisher.
Source: 2004