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.