SIXTY

Sixty freezing drops of rain
Sixty rancid crumpled leaves
Sixty tearful eyes of wax
And as many candid ribs

To run, to hide, perchance to sigh
to curl, take shelter or resign
wipe palms and feet and  knitted brows
and swallow the submerging vine

The loneliness is quite complete
And silence reigns
The window bites
And we can barely, barely breathe...