Hot Spell

I.

No snow sheaths creation
To lie about Earth's flaws,
just smoky clouds that billow
and tuck away my stars.
The grass begins its turning,
but the time has not come,
Buds peak out of branches
where lights are still hung.
I beg them to hide themselves,
This heat wave will not last,
but nature never listens
She follows her own path.
A frost is coming quickly
It will kill the vulnerable
so I wait another season
for the maturing of my love.

II.

I feel the change in climate
Of a spring that's come too soon.
Every sense echoes excitement
But my calendar stays full.
The changing grass-green,
The sun's impassioned heat
Unquestionable hot spell
leaving my resistance weak.
Muddying warm clarity
As I marvel at the weather,
Seemingly so certain
in this mock-season of change.
But the plants embrace the heat wave
and the animals thrive in packs.
Who am I to question
whether this warmth will last?