An Unhappy Ground Hog

I know it’s a little late, but something I heard earlier this month inspired me to write the following poem. Apparently, the group in Pennsylvania that organizes the Ground Hog Day activities creates the forecast, no matter what the ground hog does. Click this link to hear me read the poem. You can learn more about Ground Hog Day here.


Punxsutawney Phil’s Lament


I saw my shadow today,

they said we’ll have an early spring,

not true.

Why do I even bother?

The speeches, entertainment, give me a headache.

They don’t like my forecast.

Next year, I won’t even show my face.

Then what will they say?



How would you feel if you were a ground hog who came out of his hole, and nobody paid attention to you?


Abbie J. Taylor 010Author Abbie Johnson Taylor

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That’s Life: New and Selected Poems

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Flowers Bring Hope

Today is Earth Day. I was inspired to post the following poem by the NaPoWriMo prompt at . I wrote this a year ago, and you can click on the Dropbox link below the poem to hear me read it.






Arrow leaf, balsam root

Blanket the hillside

near a pristine lake,


bring hope of spring

soon to come,

an end to brutal winter.


Warm temperatures

around the corner

melt snow, clear ice.


A new beginning

will shortly arrive,

end nature’s tyranny,


but even in June,

snow dots mountaintops,

as winter holds on.


Meanwhile, in the valleys,

Spring has arrived

with lupine, hope.


Abbie Johnson Taylor, Author


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Sick of Winter

Spring can come any time as far as I’m concerned. I’m tired of looking at snow, feeling arctic air on my face, and walking like a little old lady over ice to keep from ending up horizontal. I live on a side street built into a hill. In order to get anywhere on foot, I have to ascend and descend an incline. Sidewalks aren’t always shoveled, and the street is a mess because the city only bothers to plow main thoroughfares. This makes walking out of the question so since I don’t drive because of my visual impairment, I must depend on the Minibus and friends for transportation during this time of year.

I could move to Florida to be closer to my brother, but it’s miserably hot and muggy during the summer, as I discovered last year when I attended his wedding in July. Besides, my house is paid for, and relocating would be a big hassle. I’ve grown attached to Sheridan, despite its idiosyncrasies, so I’ll stay put and complain about winter in Wyoming.


I knew it was coming,

but silent, unwelcome,

it crept into my awareness.

When I looked out the window,

It was everywhere, the sidewalk,

grass, street all covered in milky white.

Unexpected, unwanted, there it was.

I couldn’t make it go away.

From That’s Life: New and Selected Poems

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Abbie Johnson Taylor, Author

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