September After the Drought

A poem

Photo by Martin Sepion on Unsplash

That summer the Downs became deserts. The hills,
once green and soft, turned cracked and scorched,
brown as old leather. Cherry trees and sycamores
died of thirst, burnt leaves dangling from branches
like sleeping bats. We left water out in Tupperware tubs
for thirsty foxes and badgers; wasps drowned in it.
September swept in, arms outstretched, palms cupped,
offering rainy days and a temperate…