Open to the cadence of the crow
we cast stories across the groundhog’s hole
to stroke our common soul.
Shadows come and shadows go
across the land from clouds and sun.
At Gobbler’s Knob the shadow’s done.
Former this, potential that,
the inner circle tiptoes past
in long black coats and tall top hats
like a balance to be thrown.
This hoopla haunting Gobbler’s Knob
ignores synergy of sky and sun;
it ignores the groundhog’s shadow.
The president in top hat black
declares which scroll the groundhog picks
with a nebulous nod of its nose
a scroll that depicts
the weather to expect
it alternates the edges
of the stories that we own
with six more weeks of winter.
Brenda Warren 2014