Sol Invictus

Baked birds fall from the sky. I mean, they could, just a little more heat, and – splat ! Nothing moves. All is silent. No man made sounds : No cars in the village street, no trains rumbling by in the distance, no aeroplanes scratching the sky, no emergency helicopters ; no one going out with the dog, or hanging around the village puddle – not even the always reliable do-it-yerself-idiot-with-the-hammer, usually a trusted source of noise, especially on Sunday afternoons or any day’s evenings – no : Nothing.
Just heat. Pan sleeps, too knackered from nymph hunting. If this is good enough for the old semi-goat, is is good enough for me.

6 thoughts on “Sol Invictus

  1. Plates – ta – im Schlaraffenland the roast chicken fly into my mouth, dear MsScarlet ! No romp around here, the Franconian dog stays in the shade today,
    Meanwhile the light changed, the sky filled with clouds, and the hot air is in motion – one better not stands in its way.

    I’m more of a sleepy old bacchus these days, Anna, dearest

  2. Ich lass’ die Waldgeister ruh’n bei der Hitze, Anna.

    I fear it was just the general rehearsal for things to come Dinahmow. The hottest days are still before us.

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