Monochrome

On the porch the temperature is 99 degrees.
Under the arbor it is 104...
That seems like a big difference, but...
it's too hot to go up all the stairs to prove it ...empirically.
OilMan is asleep on the couch.
Ozzie is asleep under the table.
There is not a breath of air stirring.
The sky is glaringly, unrelentingly blue.
The birds have all disappeared.
Only the Angelica in the field stands tall and unwilted...
perhaps because it has no leaves to wilt...
and the flowers have dried...
like the grass.
But as the afternoon wears on...
and the sun sinks lower...
OilMan will rouse himself 
to turn on the air conditioning
and feed the dog.
And I will put away my laptop...
because it is on my lap... 
because even though the fan is running
it is getting hot...
and burning my lap!
Time to have a cold glass of white wine....
watch the Tour de France...
and wait for the sun to go down...