A Hot Summer Day

The cat

The cicadas draw my attention with their screech,
And the morning vocal bird song is strangely silent.
The midday heat burns and dries my eyeballs,
Penetrating my head with a thumping beat.
I blinkingly glance at the cat splayed across the deck,
Lying in the shade of the table made from worn planks.
Asleep, yet her moving tail is twitchingly alert,
A sound escapes her lips and eyes open to opportunity.
Flies buzz and dance around a fresh carcass,
A shrivelled worm, its life cut short.
Ignore the cat’s insistent appeal,
To touch the sunburnt remains of the once pink delicate hydrangea,
Thirstily waiting for a cool spray, yet to come.
The gray concrete innocently invites my bare feet
To dance across it, and smoulder bare soles.
Brown dirt beckons through the faded parched blades,
That was, weeks ago, a lush oasis of cool green.
The leaves of trees silhouette a darkening sky,
Full of promise for somewhere else?
A blustering wind springs suddenly and
Roughly swaddles me with repugnant warmth.
The washing hangs in a stiff replica of what it was meant to be,
The cat’s urgent demands end with a tumble of biscuits.
A faint bouquet of flames afar signals,
A quick escape into the cool darkness to wait.

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