On a Wet Country Road

I’d hoped some salamanders
Would be crawling on the road,
For a downpour in the country
Makes them exit their abode.

But I haven’t seen them lately
And I looked with every tread.
What I noticed, though, were lots and lots
Of slimy slugs instead.

Like the worms that they resemble
They enjoy the ground when wet
And emerge from ‘neath the soil
With each chance that they may get.

In my youth, a salamander
I would lift up by the tail
But there’s not the same attraction
To this skeevy shell-less snail.