Tuesday, 2 February 2016

The Journey of the Groundhog

A cold coming I had of it.
Lifted from my cage on a bright Candlemas
And dragged before the cameras of a waiting world.
A tradition, based on a German climate,
translated to the Eastern Seaboard with no claim to common sense.

The sun shone - hung in the air for a moment
And I wondered why these mortal souls
Furless, squeaking for meaning in their darkness
Paid attention to this overgrown rat
Forbidden food - unclean by regulation
Dragged out on this day of Purification.

And so I was cast back to my nest
To sit and sulk and graze another year
The gifts they showed me not those I desire
For what does a groundhog need with fame?
I would be glad of another carrot.

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