Pots with no plants.

In the heat, roots, shrunk and stiff, struggle.
Just a sip of wet would do.
"This is not the time for watering."
The pronouncement like a belfry bell:
"Dead!", ten times.

Wells running low, threatening to go dry and sandy.

Sooty with gritty, fine sand mud.

Look. Turn out and dump the pot to see worms in the night cool.
The under-surface dampness is inviting.