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.