Funeral

The rain fell sideways
the wind blew sideways
Hair flew up, hair flew left.
Hats floated away.
Drop,
flop,
stop.

Only to float away again.
Comical figures, hair awry, chasing hats.
She's standing alone at the top of the hill
Hair awry, rain splashing against her face, wind stealing the loose folds of her clothes, red-eyed, cold hands clutching a flag.
The stone before her feet draws her eyes.
She can't look.
Can't look away.
Warm hands, warm hands on her waist, she stares.
Warm breath, warm breath on her neck, she stares.
Warm lips, warm lips on her cheeks.

The rain hits the back of his head, and
the wind tears around them.
She holds up the flag,
and his warm hands take it,
tuck it next to her heart,
He steps away,
There is no rain running down her damp cheeks.

His sister climbs the hill,
and places an arm around her.
The flag is next to her heart.
Her hair is awry, and her hands are cold.
The flag warms her heart,
and she laughs.
At the figures chasing their hats.