We walked in the park yesterday and sat down on the berm separating the street from the playground and the rest of the green. It was so hot. My brother and I plunked ourselves on the grass and I examined the fallen leaves while he and I caught up on so much we never got to talk about. The shade from the sycamores was sublime. It was well over 100 degrees and under the canopy the earth was cool to the touch. I don't now how long we were there. The air was so still, the passage of time seemed slowed down. Everything seemed slower. Except the movement I noticed among the foliage, up there, in one of the trees. It was too big to be a squirrel and the wrong color for a cat. And then, it barked.
"It's his babysitter," a woman said as she sauntered towards us.
I guess she meant the tree. I looked at my brother, his eyes fixed on the dog that had emerged a little from his camouflaged perch.
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