April’s flood me with color
but this year—she hid away
under deep snows choking life
flat grey smudge—tall naked tans
erasing warm hopes of spring
hungry finches scratch for seed
on welded crystals of ash

when will morning pierce cold soil
and where do meadowlarks light
when home is lost under nights
dispersed by tunnels of voles
how do I garden any promise
when my north fails to concede
and looming floods depress me