A Rest on the Slat

The midday heat warmed the sidewalk, so I followed a dirt trail into the neighborhood park. Under the canopy of an oak tree, a weathered wooden bench offered deep shade. I trotted over, leaped with a firm click onto the lower crossbar, and hoisted myself up onto the wide green slat. Beside me lay a smooth, dropped popsicle stick. I pushed it with my square snout until it aligned neatly with the edge of the wood. The ground below remained quiet. I lay flat across the timber, front paws resting over the edge, ears raised, surveying the lawn.