Why Can't Everyday Be Spring?

I simply cannot understand why,
What for other than that which given
To me before you, you see.
Why can't everyday be spring,
With baseballs flying every which way
Up and down, my friend?
The birds are calling me in a way
Only Emerson and Thoreau could explain,
The entropy, the mayhem that reigns madness
Yet is so very beautiful...madness is gladness.

Why can't everyday be spring,
The creator of all things you see before you?
Mother may take credit for me,
But I know better; something took me under its wing,
A spirit of creativity, could be the muses.
It's the season of love, a season of sharing,
A season of reproduction in all its grandeur,
But only God's perfect,
And that leaves us questioning, "Why?"
And Derek Jeter has to wait until next spring.