The afternoon heat is at its highest, so I go out into the world. I gave Lily the horse an apple today. She smashes it into a pulpy mess so quickly her technology needs studied. She froths green happiness. She and Puppy Moss dance together in a wary and excited friendship. Puppy bounds and Lily twists her neck gracefully while bucking playfully.
The dogs greet me as I come down the hill. Only Murph heads to the river with us.
The tree where I decided to store my kayaks drops miniscule ticks all over your body. You can’t see them against the grain of your body hair, but can definitely see them on a white sink top or especially against the still glow of your cell phone. Now I shower when I get home. The dogs and I kayak about a bit, not far. Puppy doesn’t have his river foot quite yet.
There is either a turtle or a snake hunting in the river directly under the place I set my chair. As sunset I could see its black head arise and push past the current into where the little fish were snatching up the bugs. It would grab a little fish and let the current pull it back to the rushes as it chomped.
Small birds dance and surprise attack bugs at all levels of play. A hound dog bays in the distance. A fishing boat comes up and shares the turtle(&/or)snake’s hunting ground. The puppy sits quietly with me watching all the same things I watch.
The sun is reflected on the water. I notice that means there are two suns. This must’ve been so confusing for pre-historic peoples, it must be confusing for Puppy. In fact, how was puppy taught not to walk off the edge of the deck, would puppy leap into the sun the same way he will leap into the reflection of the sun. Are they even related objects in his mind?
If I counted all the eyes seeing the sun at this moment, how many millions of suns would there be?