April Can't Quite Conquer

Willows explode and spray down in yellow
while blossoms reach up in white cupped splashes.
Snow slants across the field of view, from where
to when we do not know, and cannot see
the source or destination. Just a screen
beyond which the slow motion spread of life
fills the frame, where our eyes seek out the light
of dawn, development, and hints of death,
left over from the winter kills now past.
Falling snowflakes still are water, soaking
the soil now frozen, now sodden, then mud,
where sudden growth squirts up as moisture drops,
moss and mucky shoots and starts, oozing green
under late spring lowering skies, darkly
surging from western storms into eastern
sunrises that come earlier each day.