A Visit from a Groundhog
by Autumn Ward, adapted from Clement Clarke Moore
‘Twas the morning of Groundhog's, and all above the burrow
Not a crop row was stirring, not even a furrow.
Calories were stored in fat rolls with care,
In hopes the spring equinox soon would be there.
The marmots were nestled all snug in their dens,
While visions of vegetables danced in their heads.
And mamma in her slippers, and I, sans my shoes,
Were all settled in for a late morning’s snooze.
When out on the lawn there arose such a rumpus,
I slid from my bed to see what all the fuss was.
Across to the window I walked in a haze,
Opened the curtains and focused my gaze.
The sun on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Shone bright, then diffuse, fluctuating its glow,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a drowsy woodchuck departing his lair.
As dry leaves that before the calm breeze skate,
When they meet with an obstacle, flutter and shake,
So out of the burrow the rodent did heave,
Assessing the shadows, ‘hogmancy to weave.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard and I saw
The padding and plodding of each little paw.
As I stuck out my head and was looking around,
From the burrow the groundhog emerged with a bound.
He was covered in fur, from his head to his tail,
His girth undiminished by winter’s travail.
A bundle of pep, slumber abating,
He looked unperturbed by interrupted hibernating.
His eyes-how they twinkled! His dimples how brazen!
His cheeks were like buckeyes, his nose like a raisin!
His droll little snout was drawn up like a bow,
And the pudge of his belly was softer than dough.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old ‘mot,
And I laughed when I saw him, though I knew I ought not.
A shake of his rump and a snort from his nose
Soon gave me to know he was not discomposed.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Prognosticating spring where e’er it might lurk.
Then laying his foreleg astride in a toddle,
And giving a nod, back burrow-ward he waddled.
He sprang to his hole, through his teeth gave a whistle,
And away he sunk like the roots of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he plunged on his way,
"Happy Groundhog’s to all, and to all a good day!"
by Autumn Ward, adapted from Clement Clarke Moore
‘Twas the morning of Groundhog's, and all above the burrow
Not a crop row was stirring, not even a furrow.
Calories were stored in fat rolls with care,
In hopes the spring equinox soon would be there.
The marmots were nestled all snug in their dens,
While visions of vegetables danced in their heads.
And mamma in her slippers, and I, sans my shoes,
Were all settled in for a late morning’s snooze.
When out on the lawn there arose such a rumpus,
I slid from my bed to see what all the fuss was.
Across to the window I walked in a haze,
Opened the curtains and focused my gaze.
The sun on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Shone bright, then diffuse, fluctuating its glow,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a drowsy woodchuck departing his lair.
As dry leaves that before the calm breeze skate,
When they meet with an obstacle, flutter and shake,
So out of the burrow the rodent did heave,
Assessing the shadows, ‘hogmancy to weave.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard and I saw
The padding and plodding of each little paw.
As I stuck out my head and was looking around,
From the burrow the groundhog emerged with a bound.
He was covered in fur, from his head to his tail,
His girth undiminished by winter’s travail.
A bundle of pep, slumber abating,
He looked unperturbed by interrupted hibernating.
His eyes-how they twinkled! His dimples how brazen!
His cheeks were like buckeyes, his nose like a raisin!
His droll little snout was drawn up like a bow,
And the pudge of his belly was softer than dough.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old ‘mot,
And I laughed when I saw him, though I knew I ought not.
A shake of his rump and a snort from his nose
Soon gave me to know he was not discomposed.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Prognosticating spring where e’er it might lurk.
Then laying his foreleg astride in a toddle,
And giving a nod, back burrow-ward he waddled.
He sprang to his hole, through his teeth gave a whistle,
And away he sunk like the roots of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he plunged on his way,
"Happy Groundhog’s to all, and to all a good day!"
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