everything old is new again

the flakes have fallen and
everywhere the children are building
in gardens, on streetcorners
an army of snow children
a new bright brigade;
their sticky twins first kneeling,
stumbling, then running
raising their shining arms to the shining sky
grinning and pinching and snorting and skipping
looking everywhere with their eyes that are roses
but they are made of inconstant stuff
these snow children
where the sun touches them
their mouths drip, their fingers stream
their brilliant skin collapses
changing and moving,
moving and changing again
turning and turning,
each losing an ear
or an eye or a toe as the sun ascends
the snow children are melting,
everywhere around me
they are dissolving and and melting
the roses that were their eyes
dropping slow and cold to the earth