Crocus patch in wartime

 

Survey we now our garden,

So recently sown,

Reduced to torn-earth shell holes;

Secret crocus patch I laid

For your astonished delight

Ripped by wrath from womb;

Those potentials I believed

Had promised springtime color:
Sad, silent bulbs crushed dead

Yet lift my ragged banner,

Stained by these indignities,

Hope stark hues suffice;