The Complainant

We do so sigh with exasperated
frustration at the global seasons
and the weather patterns that
accompany them. Pining for
the warmth and brightness 
of the sun during long, cold
and darkly imposing winter months
when the initial wonder and
beauty of snow and ice wear
thin their welcome and we
fume over our helplessness
clinging to the hope that time
will not forget its duties,
ushering winter out for another
year, welcoming spring, then 
summer heralding our salvation.
Until the sun burns too hot in
our atmosphere and we thank
the wind for cooling us and
dissipating stinging pests.
Yesterday was intolerably hot
and humid and the wind rescued
us from misery. Today nature's
mischief has turned to cold, wind
brisk enough for linked discomfort.
And the fruit trees which yesterday
enchanted our spirits with the
bounteous beauty of its blooms
are now naked, those tender petals
dispersed like snow in May, the
landscape transformed as we melt
one day with heat exhaustion and
shiver the blighted day afterward.