New beginnings are hard. Sometimes we make a conscious choice to start over again, or at least change directions. At other times, the decision is forced upon us. Regardless how it comes about, change represents both danger and opportunity. In my world, we are awash in a sea of changes, most not of our choosing. All this brings me to the following for our Monday Poem of the Week:
Poem not containing the word snake
This morning on the garden path I find a whorl
of scaled collodion shed overnight, complete
from corneas to tail, a sinuous coil
of glistening membrane, its former occupant
now rippling the grass. I wonder
when that time arrived, what signal flared?
Restrictive pellicle, old eyes dim –
no thought of venom, then, or prey.
Which reminds me of our talk
last night, how hard it is to change
oneself for good. How hard to know
the right time to slip off
a useless skin, the right time
to begin again.