when in april begins the showers so sweet


that the long island ice tea
reaches the roots of the wheat


the first cuckoo in central park starts
yawning five seconds after dark


you too, you too the owls and the bats,
the princess and the crickets, the frogs and alley cats
all pine for the cockeral at the top of tree


happy holidays from the compass of the flip of you,
you, and any passport wrinkled for thee