Young Writers Project is a creative online community of teen writers, photographers, and artists, based in Vermont since 2006. Each week, VTDigger features the writing and art of young Vermonters who publish their work on youngwritersproject.org, a free, interactive website for youth 12-18 years old. To find out more, visit youngwritersproject.org, or contact Executive Director Susan Reid at sreid@youngwritersproject.org; 802-324-9538.
The day will come, a few moons from now, when we’ve had enough of this white stuff, but for the time being … a thick, Vermont snowfall is nothing short of magic. What else to do but celebrate its wonders with a giddy twirl, a snowman, an angel or two? This week’s featured poet, Elise Cournoyer of Richmond, announces that winter is officially here; let’s settle in.
First snow
By Elise Cournoyer, 13, of Richmond
It doesn’t matter if you’re young or old.
You rise from your drowsy slumbers and black-and-white dreams, just like every other morning.
But there’s something different today, under this bright and whimsical sunrise.
Something fresh and new and beautiful, like a new beginning.
Snow.
It won’t take you long to drag your battered figure from bed today.
In some gloriously subconscious state of childish glee, you giddily peer out the window,
fingers curiously peeking over the sill and eyes fixed on the glimmering flakes.
A smile stretches across your face. Not a grandiose or wide or extravagant grin,
just a big smile, and a happy one at that.
Hot cocoa with whipped cream and a few jumbo marshmallows is waiting at the table.
Bright, new snow pants and puffies are waiting on the coat hooks.
Flames are waiting in the fire.
And the snow is waiting for you to dance in it, for it, with it.
It’s winter in Vermont, and there is no stopping it.
Bundle up and make a snow angel, and if you ever move away…
Never forget.
Never forget that moment, only once a year, unpredictably meeting hopeful snow
through dusty glass.
Never forget cocoa and fires and snowmen (and how the mailman always compliments them)
and smiles and joy and laughter and love.
Never forget that moment — that beautiful, magical moment.
Oh, magic isn’t real, you say?
I suppose you’ve never woken up to the first beautiful, glistening snowfall in Vermont
on what would have been any other plain, old day.
So,
it doesn’t matter if you’re young or old.
Go make a snow angel.
Now.
The seasons may pass, but
I think you and I
both know by now
that it will be there forever.