Groundhog Vision

February 2nd is my day to
either see my shadow or not,
for I am weather prognosticator.
Six more weeks of winter, perhaps.

All year long I dig beneath
the Earth; holes and tunnels,
a subway system for myself
and other prairie dogs.  I am
soil re-arranger, clay-silt
mover extraordinaire. 

I take the energy of sun
(it also finds ways
beneath the ground),
and with my energetic
claws, I make riot in
organic loam, matter
compressed by time:
roots, leaves, moss
extant, acreage where
human beings set about
or play a softball game
or two.

I’m merely one such animal
given reign in subterranean
realm, yet I’m a star on
this planet.  And though
my eyesight’s weak,
I sure can see.


28 Lines
Writer’s Cramp Winner
2-1-16