Groundhog’s Day

Deborah Beach Giordano
© February 2, 2010

Grunting and wheezing,
he is pulled
from his snug cozy burrow,
and thrust into the spotlight;
cameras flash,
people shout,
“Phil the Groundhog
has come out!”

Gimlet-eyed
he peers out
at the dawn’s early light,
the maddening crowd,
and the giddy city fathers
who have partaken
abundantly
of a little something
to ward off the chill…

His arrival sets off
the celebration;
the forecast is made,
photographs taken,
and his description circulated
to world-wide press agencies
in generally unflattering terms –
remarking on his heft,
his languor, and
his waddling walk.

Decidedly unprepossessing,
this critter;
shockingly unscientific,
the belief
in his prognostications.

Yet every year we await
the rodent’s appearance
and cheer with delight
at the sight of his face;
we listen as his prediction
is broadcast on the national news.

Despite our modern technology –
sky cams, doppler radar,
and satellite coverage
that surrounds the earth –
we cling to Phil
and all he represents.

There in that frost-covered hamlet,
wrapped in dreamy
shades of gray and white
we catch a glimpse
of simpler times:
innocent
and silly
and endearingly
nostalgic.

Groundhog’s Day
is our collective daydream:
a remembrance of things past
wrapped up
in a fur coat.