Serpents

Surprised to reach the end of the field, and even more surprised to discover there is no fence, just a steep, long-grassed drop to what I presume to be a trench of water. The sky is white and wet, and the dew on the grass is old and clinging. Cold wind. Sometime in the afternoon in a landscape that is familiar and alien.
Shall I leap across the ditch? Perhaps. I was expecting a fence. Water may provide a greater barrier, like those fairy tales of witches who can't cross water, but this water is still and narrow and deep, and full of miniature sea monsters,
I am suddenly afraid I might sing, and the song would be in the tones of a dream that is about to turn into a nightmare. I recognize the warning in the clouds, they darken, turn the crooked pylons into skeletons. Shall I walk back, or leap the trench, or maybe sink into the water and dream with whatever serpents may already be dreaming there?