It's easy to make one,
lying on your back in the newest snow.
You move your arms like wings.
Later you forget about your creation,
go inside for a mug of hot chocolate.
That's when she rises from the snow
takes a feathery breath, tries out her wings. So begins a poem about making a snow angel, but it might also refer to the mysterious way that a poem comes into being and takes on a life of its own. In this new collection,...