Last week we could
sit on our sofa
window open
with the view from one
position in the room
of a tree
and without a garden
or an outside space
of our own to cherish
we listened to a bird sing
in a stranger's garden.

Then the sun climbed higher
and cooked our roof
which heated the rooms
in which below we live
creating rising heat
uncomfortable, shock to the system
walk around nude
stand in front of the fridge
heat.

Today the windows are shut
I can't hear the bird sing
or the sound of the urban wind
in the timeless leaves.

Now I'm cold on the sofa
and a
bitter wind blows.

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