It’s warming fast in the desert.
The bedroom window is open

and he listens to the spring
winds blowing through the

valley. The comforter is scrun-
ched in the middle, only the

sheet covering them. The sky
starts to lighten; he rests

his hand on her backside as
she lies in a fetal position

facing the window. Stirring,
she asks apologetically, “Was

I snoring?” “No,” he replies.
Giving her a pat, he turns

toward the door, assumes his
own fetal position, sighs and

thinks about the dream. Soon
the dog will lick his hand as

it hangs over the bed signaling
that is time to take him out.