Antidote for the Intemperate

The meteorologists' words we prize
though sometimes viewed with dour frown.
We cheer prediction of temperature rise,
though unsteadily prone to dropping down.

Days far ahead sun and warmth forecast,
until we lose track of just how far.
Although only a day or so may last,
remember in what state we are.

“The year's at the spring,” the poet said,
and hints and harbingers appear.
To purchase new spring clothes, we're led,
sometimes, seems may be spring next year.

Days ago, we rallied to thirty-two,
thinking, sun may pitch in to melt some snow.
Ten days from now, eighty is in view,
followed by fifty-four, surprise! Oh, no.

April: may the honey bees now hum;
be buoyant; bring us flowers today.
Anemic, though the showers come,
and, can the antidote be May?