Singing Under Snow

by Anne Haven McDonnell

These are poems of queer ecology—poetry that “exults in the grit and texture of the natural world, in the unassuming and overlooked wonders beneath our feet and beyond our doors—in lichen and snow, in martens and mushrooms.” In reckoning with a mother’s aging, a breakup, or grief and disorientation in the face of the climate crisis, these poems seek a spiritual meaning in ecological belonging. Central to the collection is a series of poems exploring science, ceremony, and personal encounters with fungi. Fungi and lichen blur what we consider biological, what we think of as an individual, and how we understand death, and these poems reflect this complexity through imagery, juxtaposition, leaps of imagination, and sonic spells.
 

132 pages, Paperback

Published February 1, 2026

Reviews

[Renee Godding · Rating 4 out of 5]

"I alwas feel the way my own fuzzy ancestry, my breezy white walking,
leaves me lonely. Like lichen,
I is really we,
and there are so many gone from me."

There's something truly special about poetry that resonates with you as a reader, and Singing Under Snow had that effect on me. "Healing through nature" has been a theme that's on my mind lately, and this collection of queer poems fits beautifully into that little niche.
Through imagery of forests, lichen, mushrooms and cycles of (natural) life, Anne Haven McDonnell explores grief, (queer) identity and belonging.

The poems fall in the category of modern poetry and don't follow a traditional rhyme or metrum. That being said; flow and rhythm are important elements for me to enjoy a poem, and I loved the cadance that this collection carried throughout. The collection flows throughout in a way that carried me towards the end, continuing for one more poem before bed every night...
My personal favourite poems include:
- Moraine
- Whale Breath
- Heat Wave
- When the End is Near

I'd recommend this collection for poetry-readers with an interest in eco-poetry or the exploration of human emotions through natural imagery.
Many thanks to Wheelbarrow Books and Michigan State University Press for providing me with an ARC in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own.

[Nicole Perkins · Rating 3 out of 5]

Thank you NetGalley and Wheelbarrow Books for the review copy of Anne Haven McDonnell's "Singing Under Snow."
"Everything has a voice," McDonnell tell us in the collection of beautiful poems. McDonnell's poems are reflections on nature and of the self. She questions our place in the natural world; her deep respect for nature and all it can offer us--spiritually, not commercially--breathes life into her words. McDonnell considers the minuteness of our existence against the magic of science: "Merely human, I want to understand how my eyes and skin adjust to starlight that is already dead."
We have a place in this glorious, generous, green world, McDonnell reminds us, but we need to pause to understand it. We need to listen to its stillness with a stillness of our own; we need to listen for the exhale of forest, the music of snow falling in sleeping woods, taste the mist in the barely-lit mornings. Only then will we understand what a gift we have been given to exist in this place.

[Anastey · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thank you Netgalley and Haven McDonnell for sending me this advance review copy for free. I am leaving this review voluntarily.

This was a lovely book of poetry!

I loved the winter vibe where everything holding it's breath, waiting for something to happen, and the crunch of ice. It also delves deep into harshness of the cycle of life. It's beauty, pain, and loss.

It's very lyrical and flowed very nicely. I can picture all the animals and things in nature that show up on the pages. It's always interesting to see where nature and queerness overlap too. My favorite parts are all the different kinds of fungi. I adore mushrooms, lichen, and moss so much.

Overall this was a fantastic, and deeply emotional read.

[Lesley Wheeler · Rating 5 out of 5]

A hush hangs over Singing Under Snow, which contains a gorgeous series of odes to mushrooms—a disposition to awe. Smell and taste and touch are vibrant, as opposed to the visual detail that dominates much poetry. A sautéed Agaricus agustus has “browned base notes in butter, high hint / of marzipan.” Inky caps “stink of squid.” Truffles emit an “intimate funk, maybe old cheese, oak, sweat, rot, maybe sulfur or leather or brine…it’s a low cello starting in the feet.” All this mushroom sniffing is entangled with memories of beloved people, who sometimes accompany the foraging. “Every love I’ve known,” Haven McDonnell writes, “I remember by her smell—maple syrup, soap, salt, moss, fur, cinnamon, yeast, sap, snow.” A queer, mycological, closely observed, and very lovely book.

[Rhiley Jade · Rating 5 out of 5]

I knew I was going to love this from the very first poem and I did, from start to finish.
Every poem was a song and a love letter to Mother Nature, to premeditative grief, and to heritage. A stunning, outspoken collection that will leave you breathless and highlighting passages on every page. I was awestruck. I loved it. Not only because I related to it so desperately but also because it is universally relatable and simply stunning to read.

Thank you to NetGalley for the E-Arc in exchange for an honest review.

[Evie Toland · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Because I know so much
is dying, I love this marten
with some desperation,
the way I love my mother and cannot
imagine this world without her. I know
she will die and I will not be
ready."

A breathtaking book so very, very needed to help us metabolize these times and emerge clear that we are, in fact, e v e r y t h i n g and everything is us. And that is the greatest gift of being alive.

[Sarah Giragosian · Rating 5 out of 5]

I love all of McDonnell's collections, but this one in particular is astonishing. I'll be returning to poems like "Massive", "Cedar Mesa, My Deer," "When the End is Near" and "Mycelium" to savor and study their musicality and wisdom.