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Still the Heat

In this protracted dry heat the birds hop

about, their thin beaks open, panting.

The Cooper’s hawk flies down, perches

on my neighbor’s low roof and stands

with wings spread open drooping like a tent.

The stream that runs along my yard is dry and dusty

so I’ve put a dish of water out, a makeshift birdbath

though I’ve not seen any bird using it.

We are to expect no relief any time soon

just the welcome setting of the sun each evening

and the rise of the perfect moon untouched

by the vagaries of weather here on Earth.

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