My friend on Facebook reassures
the groundhog has given signs that
it will be an early spring to melt the snow
and bring back afternoon walks to the
cultural district
this yearning for sun churned by
superstition
only reinforces what I already know from
reading
the weather forecast of February, and March
too
but
that does not impede the good cheer
arising from the unquenchable thirst
to touch wood whenever something works out
or the sudden drawing back when a plump
black cat ran across Arch Street, crying in
distress
I want to tell him that it’s good to know
we unite in our common longings and also
fears
about the residues the cold nights leave behind
besides the backyard shorn of its pristine
whiteness
like an angle who lost the battle.
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