Painted pots bake on the gravel

  The latch of the gate is

    Hot to touch

  Come in

  Sticky fruit is falling

  On a jar of jam

  A wasp walks the sweet rim

  Black cat

    lavishes in sun

  Water gathers in one corner of the garden

  Stands                       Smells           frog-green

  Brown veined leaves are burning

  Snakes hunger about the greenhouse

  and a             cold angel

    Thinks

  On the neat box hedge