Every Ground Hog has its Day

Surely the fact that I am now waxing poetic is evidence of the severity of my cabin fever.

Oh, spring

Will you ever come?

I can not endure

One more day with out the sun.

 

Underneath the frozen snow

There is green grass, I know.

 

Another day trapped inside,

And I will surely loose my mind.

 

Children climbing walls

Give me the feeling

That I want to cling

To the ceiling.

 

That darn old ground hog

Saw his shadow.

If our paths should cross,

He’ll see the barrel

Of my husband’s riffle.

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