Dave Bonta mixes short prose with two tiny haiku-like moments to capture a strange, unsettled spring. Snow has arrived when the dogwoods should be blooming, and the speaker says the whole world feels "out of whack." People are stuck at home, tempers are fraying, and there's worry about money and food. The weather seems to echo that general unease.
The small images do a lot of the work. A spiderweb catches snowflakes, and the word "spikes" links delicate frost to something sharp. Then the scarlet tanagers, normally high in the trees, are forced down near the creek to hunt for food. The comparison to "our open mouths" suggests hunger and need, maybe even a cry of distress, in a flash of red against the white.
The closing line shifts the mood. Spring is called "a puzzle," and spikiness, whether in weather, tempers, or buds, both blossoms and leaves us. The ending feels uneasy but quietly accepting: hard times come and go.