Inclusion here does not mean the poem has been chosen
for the Snowman Burning Ceremony.

Snow White

Now late breathless winter lies in state in glass
and waits for such a kiss
as rubs the buds of crocus from snow-stippled grass
like colored nipples stiffened
at the touch of one who loves
so much despite what icy death has sterilized
and dulled in gloves, and freezing cripples.
There to be kissed awake,
there will soon be ripples
on the hard thick lake.

--Jonathan Proctor, St. Paul, Minnesota

An Afternoon in March

The deep winter months are fast asleep
at their guardposts, letting warmth sneak through.

Today the sky is blue, and the back yard
is streaked with the red flight of cardinals.

Once piled high like a fabulous hairdo
dirty snow sags and unravels:
brilliant white tablecloth become a grey rag.

Below the raised staff of a telephone pole,
small streams glitter in the alley.
They wriggle off in the sun like Patrick's snakes.

--Dave Hedenstrom, St. Paul, Minnesota

Here's a poem written by Katie Margaret Gunderson on May 4, 1995...she was 5 years old at the time -- Carol Gunderson

Spring

Spring, spring
Look at the wonderful things!
I love spring!

--Katie Gunderson

March in Minnesota/Imagining Spring/Faith in Recurrence

The worm stirs the soil, past the last ice crystals
The air kicks up its heels,
carries the smell of the sun drenched, rain soaked earth
into a newly opened window,
surprises the corners of the rooms,
wakes houseplants from dreams of furnace heat

The first new growth, the luxurious compliment
of crow, humus, wireworm,
sunlight, toad, oak
All feasting upon one another,
riding the spinning blue jewel through space
in the warmth of the bonfire sun

We remember all the springs before, eating violet flower and dandelion leaves
The bushes in the yard taking their turns, first the lilac, then the rose
and the large white snowballs
we threw at one another
You and I move closer in
to our comfort zone
basking in its heat, tending our gardens

--Bonita Gibson

Imagine

Imagine that Spring has come at last,
My gardens have been covered with winter's blast.

They seem as strange to us as the bottom of the sea,
winter has lasted much too long for me!

Fly away Old Man Winter,
take a hike...pack your bags...join the flight!

The Snowman will soon be melted, it's time he go
leaving us clean smells of earth and things that grow.

Maybe we haven't left him behind after all.
maybe he is like the Sun and the Spring,
warming us no matter where in the world we go.

--Dale, Linda, Amanda & Whitney Westley, Detroit Lakes, Minnesota

a final anointing...spring 1997

glaze that carrot nose with honey and rum and cinnamon,
douse the top-hat, scarf, and those anthracite eyes, with almond oil,
heap his pipe high with the finest opium,
build him an ark of hickory and cedar and Scotch needles
and set that ragged broom alight.

--C.D.Kearsley, St.Paul, Minnesota

March 21st

I watch the snow--
light, white petals
of snow-flowers,
as soft and as deep
as spring rain--
fall and repose
on tree limbs,
on stones,
until by falling
(like seconds falling
into minutes, into
hours)
accumulate,
almost blossom,
then fade,
melting into something less
than itself, into
something else.
It is as if there were an
invisible sun
in them.
Is it not a form of dying, then,
these snow-blossoms that
never last,
that cannot stay;
they make a trail as deep and as long
as a falling star
or shooting comet,
scaring the night sky
and the history of constellations
until its disappearance leaves
the sky as astonished looking or
as apologetic as our faces,
turned in disbelief,
as we watch the snow fall.

--Marjorie Buettner, Minneapolis, Minnesota

Poetry Submissions: 1 - 2 - 3

Snowman Burning - So Long, Frosty (video) - The Snowman Cometh