Poems ✍️
Poems ✍️
09.11.2025
9
February’s Secret
The morning cold, the meadow white,
A hush before the day’s first light.
The groundhog wakes and looks around,
His tiny paws upon the ground.
He tells no lies, he makes no claim,
Yet nature listens just the same.
For in his gaze we see the start,
Of seasons turning, heart to heart.
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