Broom in hand
The snowman stands
Top hat on top
Black button eyes
Staring under stormy skies
Like a frozen traffic cop.
Down, down the starflake snowflesh flies
Filling gullies, capping walls
As if the drift would never stop.
But stop it does in whitely quiet
>Til the kids come out in riot
Rolling snow to triple balls
So soon a thousand snowman faces
Grin and stare from snowman places.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem