The Quiet Ones

Another dreadful hot day, when will it end. I might be made out of brass or something but I still feel the heat you know. No rain again. They promised rain. More screaming kids, it must be school holidays again, do they ever go to school these days. And they let them hang off this poor tree behind me. I planted that tree you know and there they go pretending not to know that their son, or is it daughter I can never tell these days just stomped all over that garden bed. I wish it would rain. I wonder what John is doing, he likes this damn heat.