Maybe the trees won’t impress someone
looking for June or a new lover.
There are people ahead carrying flowers,
unaware of our many mistakes.
Let me imagine you now in your house
surrounded by worst-case scenarios
and rehearsed practicality.
What other animal plans their own funeral?
What animal makes room for death like we do?
My friend believes the Brontë sisters
didn’t carry umbrellas since their characters
walked the moors without them.
I would like to agree. I would like
to walk the moors without anyone.
And open the window to ask for rain.
And I love the rain.