A Groundhog Poem

It was February second and deep in his den,
The groundhog was snoring - counting sheep by the tens.

When outside his front door there arose such commotion,
Groggy Phil uncurled and set his paws into motion.

Phil poked his head out of his front door,
And gave a startled twitch at the unnatural roar.

There he is. There he is. The words thundered in Phil's ears.
Then something clamped down on Phil's neck, bringing him to tears.

Phil was hoisted right up, feet dangling in mid air,
The thunderous shouts changed to - there's his shadow, right there.

Phil blinked his eyes against cameras and lights,
He thought, well of course there's a shadow, you've obliterated the night.

Six more weeks of winter, the man holding Phil did shout.
Then why, thought Phil, are you are all gathered out here - stupid louts.

Phil chattered angrily at the man holding his neck,
The man looked insulted - too bad, what the heck.

Returned to the ground, Phil scurried back into his den,
And returned to the business of counting sheep by the tens.

Phil muttered between snores, What a bunch of stupid farts,
Their calendars could have told them winter would not soon depart.