The Moon

The Moon hides behind the cloudy wisps
As it plays out it's Solar game.
Air is chilled, as a Northern wind
Places frost on window sill and pane.
The false Spring encouraged plants to grow.
This cold snap, a test of will,
Should soon be over, so warming Sun,
Heats the ground, creating many colors.
My inner feelings tell me to till
The soil; sow the seed and plant
The Primroses to brighten the drab garden,
Until the perennials are in bloom again.