People drown in mindless violence as their sun passes above, soundlessly, enough to spark frightened daydreams of a stark blackness in which they see things, rolling fields that lay dead-white and somber as song-birds in the water; the blue shoreline snow veils the thick woodland of tall trees beyond the old wooden fence and mountain itself, the white-silence is God whispering through the lake and how people don't always catch what they fish for.