Bright spots in the clouds disappear as quickly as they appear. Fire siren. A magpie rattles at the wind.
The howl of a workman’s saw: part rage, part ecstasy. On the little cafe table on the patio, another fresh scattering of mock orange petals.
Cold, with the faintest shimmer of precipitation. A blackbird’s metallic scold-calls. Across the way, a dog howls to be let inside.
Flies buzz in every patch of sun. A morose-looking European robin sits in the shade above the feeders, flicking his tail.
Cardigan weather still. Cigarette smoke wafts over from the adjacent garden. Blackbird and wren trade cheerful riffs.
The great, cream-colored roses glow in the sun, even those beginning to turn brown. Three carrion crows—their nasal cries.
Women’s voices carry from a nearby garden. The resident terrier runs semi-circles around the elder tree, wheezing up at its flowering limbs.