The time is presently 4:07 a.m. I have five fans stationed at five open windows, and I am pushing cool predawn air throughout the house. At one stage of my life, this would have been a time for me to write a poem or stand outside on the deck and evaluate the stars. Today, however, I am making a more sober assessment of the day. By all accounts, our afternoon temperature is expected to reach above 100°F. My smartphone weather app is predicting a high of 104°F.
This
is not romantic.
There
will be no poems today.
This
is just me pumping cool air into the vessel that will be my refuge from the
heat.
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