Inspired from: “Groundhog Day”
By Richard Eberhart
The hill berths fresh forage where grasses
Trace succulent to mornings early din.
Nearby a putrid lamb curdles a tall jar,
Neither christened nor cracked, while a
Groundhog’s soul muses upon the
Fragrance of Spring’s new daisy that
Tilts upon a single beam, here to fro,
Then winks gently to another season.
Born again of neither fear nor fate,
Amidst the groundhog’s eternal gaze,
The daisy seeds to bud to stem about
Summer’s haze as an Autumn’s day
Laments the lamb’s lone bones redressed
Thru natures prise to new bloom.
Châz
