After the Heat
Blooms in their terracotta bomb-shelters,
bow their heads, but now
a distant thunderstorm nibbles
at my bare-boned flower bed.
The heat has crushed the clouds at last.
Rain falls out of a booming air.
Yesterday nailed its dry skin to the sky,
later it sloughed in sloshing shreds.
This morning, mourning doves clatter,
and roof-dance.
The air even revives my fat dog,
who now chases a stubby tail
for the first time this summer.
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