Groundhog

This ground hog came from another poem
snuffling for food in the garden there. 
She was cut electronically into cyberspace.
There is nothing to eat and she is hungry.
Pasted to this page, she snuffles for snacks.
She stands up and sniffs the air, paws held
properly at her chest. Her nose wiggles rapidly.
Dropping down, using all four feet, she digs a hole
into the surface, pushing out a mound of dirt.
She dives back in, emerges with a rake 
and smooths the mound.
Back into the hole and out,
this time she carries packets of seed. 
Planting complete, she scurries back down.
Reappearing, she lugs a full watering can,
splashing a little along the way.
Whistling, she waters the seed.
This page is too wet to write