Spring's Disfavour

Though spring is surely the
favourite season of humankind
it is a season not well beloved
by nature herself, it seems. Which
appears by all reasonable first-person
accounts to heave a cold shoulder
of unwelcome when spring
finally comes calling. Yet she is
not her mother nature's favoured
child despite she is unfailingly
polite, demure and wholesomely
chaste, never barging her way into
the landscape like some we could 
name, but sensitively and charmingly
entering when it is clear enough
that brash winter has overstayed
its welcome. Still, nature encourages
him to linger, and so he does
infuriatingly though his powers
have diminished. On offer this
evening closing in on June, 
frost waiting for night to fall
and the temperature will follow.
The sky a wide, cloud-emptied
sea of blue, a sliver of silver moon
the sole witness to tender plant life
shrinking in dismay through the
cruel chill imposed on spring.