A whole body’s worth of coverings, shed many times over, spreads out over shelves and racks, cast off to make way for something new.
Old feathers clumped at its feet, The tiny penguin stands still as still In the safe darkness of its burrow, As this year’s coat comes sleekly into place.
Trees stand stark against the storm, Autumn richness drifted at their feet, Waiting, enduring, until the great sun Draws out anew a delicate green haze.
The painful peeling back of many layers, The cracking through of encasing husks, Might, just might allow tender new skin, New skin of truth, to come into the light.
Elena Poletti, 2013.