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GROUNDHOG DAY
Winter drove me to ground, fear
of death in the cold
world above
turned me
into a ball of fur,
drawn into myself in sleep, burning
fat to give off heat
as I huddle in this dim
den of minimal exertion.February second. They want some outline
of the future. I both dread
and look forward to this day, my bulky
shape hesitating, a dark silhouette
against the white square
of doorway light.
1. An Early Spring
I could get lucky,
a gray day with nothing
to fear, no demands,
won't make much difference
if I'm out or in,
if I don't have enough energy
to stir. Spring could seep out
little by little, like snowmelt
entering the spongy earth in hidden places,
like a heavy river rising slowly to flood,
so much chilly rain
you hardly notice the snow shrinking back
from the edges of the yard,
until the last cold
dirty patch dissolves in mud.2. Six More Weeks of Winter
But some days, there's so much
to be afraid of – steely air
rushing in a wedged door, the sun
tempting me
with the promise of transformation,
every detail of tree glazed,
sparkling with the possibility
of catching light in crystal, frosted
bushes glittering around the flat sugar lake,
the blue air so clean
you could see single ions
wink and spark.The very light
sharp enough to fire the icicles
hones my shadow
to a crisp purple-black cutout on snow,
darkness in high relief,
fresh cold that brings tears
when I felt no sadness before.More than the shadow etched in my mind
drives me back to my hollow home.
I'm not ready for that energetic beauty.
With such a world outside,
I go back in, not to hibernate,
but to lie without sleep in the cave
where even the shadows have shadows,
where my real work awaits me.© 1995, 2001 Elise Rose
