The snow idol

The snow still fell on Peter's field as we
loped a trail of crazy bootprints - looked like
two three-legged knock-kneed men. And Mike
laid down and waved an angel.

Michael,

Me,

Then Peter,

carving mystic silhouettes
And strange, I saw the picture whole, the frieze
of shapes and images, and sculpted these
in snow, to act my vision's cold vignettes:
a comic strip of twisted people, limbs
bent double, fingers spread and reaching for
the towering, laughing idol's feet. And more
we made, and all, I knew, were idol's whims.

This strange creation's hollow fingers splay
To grasp and wipe the angel boys away.