Last summer, when it got so dry,After I moved to a Cape betweenIn the back yard, without a doe,They stripped my neighbor’s garden ofHe set a tub of water forThe fawns to drink. They sometimes layThis spring, the rain fell every day. The ground too wet to cultivate. At last in June, my neighbor clearedThe weeds and tilled and plantedThe garden’s too much work, he says,And he’s too old, with a bad heart,And every year he grows too much to eat. this is heat you could lean against.