The chill gets in our bones – we ache
Europe's winter's hard to take
The tiny specks of palest blue
Do not convince me winter's through.
A cuckoo's call in nearby wood
Alerts me – nature's grip is good;
Though we don't see signs of the spring
In frozen puddles; insects cling
To twigs and shelter under leaves
Owls silent, camouflaged in trees,
Sense when a change is in the air
So baby earthworms best beware...
As each day lengthens, the earth turns
The sun's rays warm and nature learns
To put in motion chlorophyll
This greening is an annual thrill!
Groundhog day, an ancient rite;
Will he see shadows or bright light?
Eagerly, the Press await
On Feb 2nd* – we shall know our fate!
(c) Poet in the woods 2016
*on which day, according to popular legend, the groundhog emerges from its burrow,
prompting the prediction of an early spring if it does not see its shadow or six
more weeks of winter if it does.