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The moon set.

A tree frog raised his voice and received no response. Today is January. The moon rose behind the clouds and slipped into the red shadow of earth, where she paused before entering a field of stars. The calendar moved from one day to another. The single howl of a lone coyote silenced the air. The sun rose.

The people did not enjoy the morning air. They rushed through doors to enter lines. They glanced at each other and judged their distance and balanced the distance silently without question. They did not notice the hawks careful attention to the field nearby.

The people left the line and consumed thousands of words. They read all the questions and everything the writer claimed they wouldn’t believe. They pushed aside their doubt, agreed with all those written words. They did not give time for words that did not fit their dismay. They did not hear the hawks piercing scream.

These are the things that are not dreams. These are the things happen.

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