So, it's September and you spend a week in a remote village in southern Spain. You know that there'll be an abundance of sun and warmth, but the day is shorter than in the UK! Of course this makes perfect sense - the day lasts twenty-four hours at the north pole, after all - but it's unexpected.

I start the day with a brief cold shower and get to the rocky terrace with my coffee before the sun has begun to crawl down the wall of the nearby building across the street. It's 8am though feels earlier. In two hours this space will be an inferno, but for the moment it's still beautiful and cool.

I read a chapter of Austin Kleon's book 'Keep Going' then pen a quick verse:

Garden palms rustle
Air whistles
Village squeaks, crows and barks
Rusting vans thunder
Through crumbling canyons
Wind in silence
Pale blue bowl inverted
Traps the day
I sip coffee
Prolonging this brief coolness
But sharp morning edge of summer furnace
Eats shade while I write
Crawls across the terrace
Hunting me

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