What happened was:
the first heat wave
snap-dried the dark-red leaves
of the onamental plum -
not all - ones in the sun.
They're crisp and crunching under my broom -
not soft like they are in June.
Autumn has not come too soon.
Liz lost the growth on her cyclamen tuber -
so the heat hit Melbourne too.
'Upside-down the pot till summer's over, '
I replied to her what-do-I-do.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem