The snake slinks out of its skin
so easily, yet it can’t be willed.
Cells rejuvenate, but do souls?
It’s a matter of layering
rather than stripping,
letting atoms gather
around a discarded peach pit
surrendered to the deep.
Dive for it
and open your eyes
to the sting of an old beginning.
That twisted tree on the shore
bears fruit, and you are only just
coming up for air.
Viki Peitchev 