Spring is usually a season we welcome, but here it comes under threat. The speaker imagines "the cult of money" wanting to change the very light of the day, swapping the ordinary light of noon for something else, and wanting to halt the "green experiments of spring." That phrase is lovely: it makes new growth feel playful and unfinished, like nature trying things out just for the sake of it.
What money's cult offers instead is "a red meat world." The image is harsh and bodily, suggesting something raw, consumed, and bloody, the opposite of fresh leaves. The poem doesn't say exactly what this world looks like, and that gap makes it feel more ominous.
The speaker seems wary and quietly angry, though the tone stays calm and compact. The mood is a mix of tenderness for the green, delicate world and unease about the forces that would trade it for profit and appetite. In a few lines, the poem sets growth against greed.