February Child Watch
The groundhog is about
his angelic business,
rescuing snow shadows
for his hedgerow shelter.
Winter babies are carried
in small wombs over stark ground.
They have eyes and mouths by now,
human paws.
The snuffle of a small rodent
awakens the unborn;
even my own inner child
opens its eyes, calls out once;
brown intrauterine eyes
glance my way.
Now a cold dawn blinks;
like a high-class stripper dawn
takes off long black gloves,
arrives in white thighs,
then remembers
she to
is a working mother.
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