The park was wide
in the vistas of snow
empty in the park
except my body and me
We roll the snow around itself
and make a base
then we roll a belly
and finally a head
The boy gets some leafy sticks
which we plug in as arms
They flap and waver
ragged in the cold wind
Where to get buttons?
From the sidewalk we get
thick black sticks
Broken in small chunks
they make buttons
and eyes as well

As we move away
the boy laughs
and asks if other kids
will laugh at his snowman
Yes I say – because he’s a clown

But the mournful flagging
of the brown leafy arms
and the face of black twig stumps
looks like a primeval
protective deity
in nowhere’s middle

Still we can see his cold laughter
in his shaking arms