A Ghazal for April

Sheep in the sky look sheepishly at the green frock of April
And May, in vain hopes of emulation, peeks up the skirt of April.

Flowers, flashing nude, host tinder for kaleidoscopic wings,
And the hosts, in secrecy, fool the cherished minions of April.

Water hyacinths scout- with their green periscopes- and conspire
For terror of Bengal two, sacrificing a sea, for Goddess April.

Stigma caves, pollen cry open simsim in chem tongue
And breast-fed well are the surrogate children of April.

Cherry suckers wait with daggers, knitting knitting until the king falls
And a torrent of green takes o'er the Bastille, fort of Queen April.

She is a phoenix with short cycle, wither she will again,
As May overcooks the specialty of the apron-ed April.