Mr. Carrot, the Herald of Spring

I had to pull my car over today and pen a short poem.
I had just driven by an obscene snowman. He had a huge carrot erection.
After the initial blushing, I felt a bit angry that someone had
perverted the sweet, innocent, familial pleasure of snowmen.
It was almost blasphemous.
Then my anger turned into sadness.
Sadness for the loss of innocence in general.
Finally, though, after imagining that it was
probably the prank of teenaged kids,
all hormones, pimples, and awkwardness, I was able to laugh
at this lusty snowman,
and look at him as the
Herald of Spring!


Carrot

Spring, I reckon, is around the bend
Teenaged, neighborhood boys

Have plucked the Snowman’s
Innocent carrot nose
And arranged it, suggestively,
On the Snowman’s lower half.

The snow will melt soon
And all that will remain, besides puddles,
will be the carrot’s bawdy
salute to procreation.

Keep raging on
Youth and Humor and Hormones

And with the green breath of another dawn,
Help us forget the hollow raggedness,
The death of winter,
The crushing ache of a long, memory-filled night.