This is the first time, yesterday and today, that I've paid poetic tribute to Groundhog Day, interestingly. A year ago it was a snow day free of most traffic since the snow was piled high and folk had to dig themselves out. Today dawned beautifully misty/heavy with fog, sans snow, and I surmised nobody around here would be casting shadows unless a strong spotlight illuminated them, hence I began.
(sonnet # DXIII)
He could not see his shadow. Fog's romance
Enshrouded morning's entrance, to obscure.
As day crept in sans heralds, all a blur
Of cloudy mistiness, a merest glance
Sufficed? Or he emerged and looked askance?
Night's blackness waned to dimness' grey, light's stir
In soft'ning dark was feeble, just the cure
Against all fear of casting shapes, by chance.
Did Winter sigh? He'd shaken his fist o'er
Fall's lost world once or twice, aye more; with chill
Adorned in frost's sweet delicate trim for
A day or two, and scattered snow at will,
Oft drifting it ere long. Spring's at the door?
The groundhog could not quite refute that thrill.
02Feb12
D92
thanks for this, Jenny!!