The Groundhog's Prediction

      Growing up in western Pennsylvania -- on a farm close to Indiana, PA -- I was not far from the town of Punxsutawney and enjoyed celebration each year on February 2 of "Groundhog Day."  On this day a legendary groundhog who has burrowed underground to spend the worst of winter -- near Punxsutawney, PA --  peeks out to test the weather.  If he sees no shadow, spring is on the way BUT if he sees his shadow, he quicky scurries back to his underground refuge, this departure predicting six more weeks of winter.  (Recent publicizing of this event has altered it -- now the groundhog does his shadow-seeing and prediction in front of a large audience.  And it is televised!)

     Today, in her weekly radio broadcast on wpsu, poet Marjorie Maddox offered the slightly mathy Groundhog Day poem "On Gobbler's Knob" by Pittsburgh poet Shirley Stevens (1940-2022).  I offer it below (followed by a link to background information about the poem and the poet).  Alas, today's groundhog has predicted six more winter weeks.

       On Gobbler’s Knob     by Shirley Stevens 

       We gather on the hill outside Punxsutawney
       to draw tight circles against the dark.

       Five thousand strong, we twist and shout
       to circulate blood to our frozen toes,

Poetry Moment with a Bit of Math

       Recently on the weekly program Poetry Moment on WPSU -- a radio station in Central Pennsylvania -- poet Marjorie Maddox featured work by another Pennsylvania poet and Emeritus Professor at Penn State University, Emily Grosholz.

     Grosholz' featured poem, "Holding Patterns," is a villanelle:  Here are its opening lines:

          We can’t remember half of what we know.
          They hug each other and then turn away.
          One thinks in silence, never let me go.

          The sky above the airport glints with snow
          That melts beneath the laws it must obey.
          We can’t remember half of what we know.

Venn Diagrams

      During these days of classifying people and points of view, my thoughts turn again and again to Venn Diagrams and I am then reminded of a thoughtful poem about math in grade-school days (by Pennsylvania poet and professor Marjorie Maddox) that I first read long ago -- and I offer it here:  

Learn about Venn Diagrams here

Venn Diagrams     

          by Marjorie Maddox   

There, stuck in that class,
chalking circles on a board 
       so high your toes ached,
an inch of sock exposed,
all for the sake of subsets,
        intersection.
That teacher with the tie too bright for day,
wide as your fingers spread