the air, in the shade is so warm it is difficult to breathe it in - all things swelter all things are desert, dust, in this heat, the plants wilt, I can hear them dying of thirst I had to give up being out, working in the garden, I thought my heart would burst even here, under an awning my head is pained and my limbs drained I shall do no more but sit and breathe today. The clover is already passing and the lambs bleat.next poem