When he came around the corner he would see the shelter. He could see the closed steel door. He felt his Adam's apple swell and force tears through the corners of his eyes. He let his daughter slide through his arms to the ground. He felt the wind slapping his bursting head. Ira ran the fifteen feet to the door and fell to his knees beside it. He tried to open it, pulling up on the handle till he felt pain in his hands, pain through his arms. There was a numbness through his whole body. The peep hole was still open, shining like a star on the black door. "Let us in, Joe!" He was answered by a long laugh. "You stupid little pig, stupid fat pig!" He laughed again. Ira could see his wife's feet for a second, then Joe pushed his face right up to the hole. Ira spat down the hole. Then he heard Sally crying. He stumbled across the fifteen feet of lawn and knelt beside her. He wiped the tears from her blue eyes. He felt the tears soothing to his fingertips. Ira Gold felt the impact of no sound when the sirens stopped. He looked up at the sky above the eastern mountains. He saw the black dots of missiles just under the clouds, coming, coming, he thought, as though they were just for him. He held Sally closer and kissed her on her ear. "Everything is all right," he whispered in her ear and held her tighter. A grave Reminds me Not of the dead, But of the living Who must die. -JAMES BERRETT danger ahead Do they occur only in darkness Or are they the kind That can grow every moment, Even in broad daylight. Are they unrealistic visions of the future Or just secret desires of young hearts. Are they possibly mere childish wishes Of things hoped to be. If they can be so many things Of good and bad For building up or tearing down Helping a man grow Or preventing his progress Then maybe we should control dreamers. They could become popular Causing man to dream to the point Of reaching out Beyond his own small world To that of another. Sharing himself And becoming a part of someone else. Understanding and learning about that which may be different. Appreciating all that is good And learning to accept that which cannot readily be understood and appreciated. Dreamers believe it can be done. They actually think one man is capable of accepting, understanding, and appreciating His fellow man. These dreamers might get out of hand. Maybe we should control them. -JACKIE HAIRR