An emerald canvas looms
over dusty, noisy streets
April arrives with her
poise. And hidden treats.
The days obey the weatherman.
A tad sultry, gentle still.
Come evening, April's whimsy
is a school girl's puckish thrill.
Rain comes without notice,
Not all mischief brings grief.
The mystery of this new April,
wrapped in wet earth. A fresh leaf.
The fan's whir is enough
in April's unseasonal spring.
This complaining, grumpy city
must also welter and sing.
How nice for the grumpy city to sing. The poise, the whimsy, the thrill, the mystery - what's not to love about April in this poem!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Geethanjali! I'll take this April in Delhi, knowing the scorching period that's waiting in the wings. :-)
DeleteThis made me picture April, as a naughty little school girl with defiant little curls.
ReplyDeleteThat's such a sweet image, Gangotryi. Thank you!
Deletethose last two lines - so beautiful, Bhaswati!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Giti. It was fun writing this one. :-)
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