Groundhog day

It's warm. No snow. But it’s swept,
And everything, which disconnects
With anything, rushes into flight
The groundhog prophecy. But why
Each year are we waiting it?
And only Skies – calm, impassive –
Give mocking smile to us as response.
Or maybe it is just their regards?
Would he see shadow today?
It’s doubtful. But I want to stay
In round day like Connors Phil
Let lucky! Any way I still
Have hope of my jejune Fortune
That this day will be not a bottom.


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