Our diviner; Phil of Punxsutawneyous,
should tell us if Spring will be punctilious,
but how could a groundhog know this?
For intelligent humans it is so silly of us.
It makes us look like Italo Punchinello,
That hunchbacked buffoonish fellow,
Could he be Pinocchio’s evil alter ego?
Or did Geppetto divine Italo from a cello?
Yet here we are amidst human pusillanimity,
where debaters speak common unanimity,
gathered from a network of various polity,
Each claims they have a unique equanimity.
They use their flying hands as punctuations,
their advisors insist; ‘these are obligations.’
Some bark like a dog during their orations,
while others use pregnant pause for ovations.
So again I beseech; Oh Spring. Where Art Thou?
Behold the screech of politicians and the snowplow!
Wilst I plot for a trip to Cancun or Curacao?
I cannot hesitate; Oh Spring; Of Thee I disavow.