Lost in Transit

Three weeks past the vernal.
The sun shines faithfully,
But barren winter lingers.
Stubbornly prolonging dormancy.
Still feeding on the decay,
Of the previous year.
Not a blade of grass grows,
Nor any flower blooms.
Skeleton trees stand naked,
And leafless in the wind.
Predominant brown denies green.
The flight of spring, delayed.
Though more likely cancelled.