hot, isn’t it

blackbirds drinking
in the haze of summer
from dog bowls
and sprinklered puddles

gulls spiralling in updrafts
above the melting roads
feeding on clouds
of winged ants

and in the gardens
dead in the sun



1. Written on 23rd July, 2019
2. And also originally it had an extra verse
3. That read:

Butterflies locked
in their helical dance
above sun-yellowed grass


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