Dribble dribble…and a bit more, then it
is morning after a restless night.
Outside a cold sun and icy wind; leaves,
many big enough to over vital parts,
and have the colour of unhealthy urine,
dance frantically about, not a decorous last dance
but a crazy salsa, yet not as many leaves as
yesterday ; soon streets will look inhumanly clean
to the delight of tidy people who think order is
a virtue…and naked trees, emperors exposed,
just stand there impervious and silent.
Dribble, dribble and not a strong, youthful
water fountain in sight.