Water

In
The
Heat
Of
Afternoon,
I Water
The
Flowers,
Delayed
By ours.
Hours.
I Meant
To
Do
So
In
The
Still
Morning,
Fill
The
Shallow
Bug
Bath
And
Wait
To
See
The
Fat
Robin
Bathe,
Ruffling
Bright
Breast
Feathers
In
The
Slightly
Cooler
Weather,
Then
Rest
In
The
Mimosa
With
His
Mate,
But
I Am
Late.
I Hope
He’ll
Wait
To
Wash
Until
Evening,
When
The
Sun
Is
Not
So
Harsh.