your statement blocks me
 as cold as this ground cover:
 fighting against spring
 
 i want the blossoms
 from the newly-planted trees
 to save me from this,
 
 to float on a breeze
 of similar desires
 that could bring us home
 
 (not this gray fabric
 stunting all life from below,
 constipated spring).
 
 i want soft petals,
 lilting with the seasoned wind,
 ready to escape.