Another Sleepy, Dusty, Delta Day
Another sleepy, dusty, Delta day, unsounded by the somnolent dogs of late summer, with heads too heavy to heft, uncaring about anything but the shaded cooler spot of dappled sunshine under the almost shade of the Sycamore tree. Cats strode by unmolested, unable to attract the attention of the uncaring dogs except for a flicker of an ear or tail that acknowledged a game of catchme held no interest at this time. Only the gurgle of the slow moving river sibilantly sliding past the bank of rounded rocks suspended in muck and mud and fallen brush thrust into the water rode the waves of non sound through the small village, becoming lost in the occasional sound of the wind in the Sycamore leaves high in the tree, of no comfort or coolness to those deep in the arms of Morpheous below. Time did not go slower or stop, it simply ceased to matter. Just another sleepy, dusty Delta day.
