Happy New Year! Today is the Chinese New Year and this year, 2025, is the year of the snake. I am totally afraid of snakes. I even find it hard to touch a photo of a snake. But this year I’m trying on a new skin, a more brave stance toward the scaly beasts. What are they good for?
At a recent art show, I saw this sculpture from nature. Can you find the snake skin? It is fascinating that snakes get to shed their skin in order to grow and change. Snakes symbolize transformation and creativity. How can we as humans “take off our skin” and begin again?
I was reminded of the cherita form in a post yesterday and wanted to offer it for today’s writing prompt. Simply put, a cherita tells a short story in stanzas of one line, two lines, and three lines.
What are your hopes for 2025? What skin do you need to leave behind? Explore with me in a small poem.
Hidden in a bramble of dried prairie grass
A single snake skin looms
empty, translucent, urging meTo believe* in the possibility
of creative transformation
and strength.
by Margaret Simon, draft*One Little Word 2025
Reflections on the Teche 
This bridge over the creek
in Whetstone Park
is edged now with snow banks
but in my memory it is summer
and we have stopped our bikes
to say hello to the little snake
sunning itself on the pavement.
Oops. My form slipped.
This bridge over the creek in Whetstone Park
is edged now with snow banks
but in my memory it is summer
and we have stopped our bikes
to say hello to the little snake
sunning itself on the pavement.
Mary Lee, Such a sweet poem. The details of Whetstone Park and the memory of stopping your bikes to say hello is just precious and puts a great image in my mind of winter and summer here on this bridge over the creek. I guess I should have written mine before I read yours, because you influenced my thinking but I didn’t catch the poetry.
Your tone makes this encounter seem sweet.
Margaret,
Good for you embracing your growth through the snake’s urging. I didn’t think of a story but just shared an interesting fact in my cherita.
Rattlesnake rests underground now
with his cold blood
during this cold winter
soon, though, he will rest upon the warm
rock, ready to eat again, grow, and shed
his skin, his rattle growing with each shedding
Grow rattle, grow!
Yikes! I’ve never seen a rattlesnake out in the wild, thank goodness, but I think you have them where you are.
Yes, we do have rattlesnakes. They are quite shy and don’t want to be bothered, so they shake their rattles to warn us to get away. We’ve been lucky to have never stepped on or startled one up close. I guess that could get us into trouble.
Margaret: Thanks for this super photo and your poem. I learned to hold snakes from the nature presenter at our preschool. Snake skin feels like glass beads. Love all three poems!
Twice we saw a blacksnake here
The first time I never will forget
Two grandkids with us , walking by the river
Roiling water at river’s edge, snake grabbed a fish
Grandkids’ eyes wide with amazement
“So glad we came here… we’ll never see that again!”
— Karen Eastlund, draft
Wow! A great story.
Karen, fun story. I like how even in the moment, you all knew it was something special. A snake grabbing a fish would be an amazing site.