Unhappy spring,
Undecided as to whether
To hurl down rain or sun,
Displeased with all the elements together;
Cheerful only, apparently
To moan, blow, and break
Umbrellas of the unsuspecting,
Carrying them off, to be found in the lake,
Washed up like disreputable birds –
Dissatisfied with bone-dry ground,
Yet equally, ducks swimming in the road;
Potholes and murky puddles here abound
To be covered over yesterday when it snowed.
April always ends in frozen fingers –
I’ll go back to bed, wake me up if the sun lingers.
Nice, love the rhyme scheme