the snake

I was walking my dog the other day when we ran into the snake.

“Good morning snake,” I said.
The snake looked up and smiled its ambiguous smile, my dog sniffed nervously.
“11 trips around the sun have passed,” the snake said, “and now the moon is ready as well.”
“Excuse me?” I said, “what do you mean?”

But the snake had already left, its moulted skin a bleak reminder of things past.