June 27, 2005

In the heat of the afternoon White Dog and I like to nap under the cool flow from the swamp cooler vent. I bring a magazine; she feels no need for such pretense. We lie along each other's sides--warm at our union; pleasantly chilled at our extremes. She rests her head in the crook of my arm while my hand cradles her belly. Eyes heavy, we drift without words.