You knew the end. You know the end. This house a dark, distant dream. Window sashes turn to crows meet the dusk. Blackness descends or rises from the earth, slithering up and out like a vapor, a serpent. I stand a long ways off just watching it take place in my mind. Do the trees lay flat when night arrives? Do they rest supine? Are we privileged enough to know. Crouch in the fallow field, set your hands upon earth all set to freeze. The eye passes through the front door like thread through the eye of the needle. Mind follows. I look around, gathering splinters in my long running fingers.
