Sonnet for the January Full Moon

Hail, lady Moon, with clouds out of season,
veiling you with mist but not snow, nor rain:
Already germ quickens in buried grain.
squirrel still shivers with weary frisson,
acknowledging need yet hating reason;
Winter sleep should keep him from undue strain,
but warm weather makes his sleeplessness plain.
Open pond gleams that ought to be frozen.
Robins and blue jays never quite fled south;
Cardinal sits in budding forsythia.
Mud mingles with frost on well-traveled path,
and snow fleas dance at rabbit warren mouth.
Will blossoms burst early on magnolia,
only to be smashed by winters late wrath?

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