snowman grows up

the sun shown the snow day

when the children rolled, stacked,

hatted, dressed, and gloved him,


then, proud of their work

they took the sled to the hill

in the park and forgot him


when school opened again

and children were away

his nose fell, point first


into ball below his waist

and the snowman, grown up,

saluted age, maturity, and death


he was smiling, of course,

sun on his cheery cheeks

and button eyes


“neighbors, friends, compatriots!”

he seemed to say, “come and see

the breath of life breathed into me”


snowmanthe morning sun decapitated

the snowman and smacked that smile

and button eyes right off his face


the dog chewed up his boots


the sun sets now,

his carrot nose lies in the grass,

his hat up near the door


on the end of a stick a glove waves goodbye


fallthe wind blows leg-lifted strays,

children, painters, and lovers

out of the park


bags lasso hydrants

and fluff into sewer drains

along leaf-matted streets


a boy on a bike skids,

stops, smacks the cold

out of his hands


sunlight with sharp edges,

falls around him

malicious, full of spite