A Trench Dug Deep

The wind cooled down fast past the brick line. I needed shelter. Behind the lowest clay block, a gap sat half-choked with dry gravel and old cedar mulch. I dropped low. Planted my hindquarters firm in the turf. With measured, heavy sweeps of my front paws, I dug out the loose stones. Gritty dirt flew backward, scraping against the pavers. The hollow opened up wide and deep. I shoved my bulk inside, tucking my paws under my heavy chest. Cold stone over my head, hard earth under my belly. The night stays outside. My border is held.