Rowanannette

I walk through the graveyard, carefully avoiding the flowers on the graves. It’s a yearly trip to keep up appearances. I hated coming here. I sigh stopping at the grave marked William Piller.

The sky was crying, the tears made the road slick. Daniel and I look out of our windows watching the clouds dancing with each other—the air heavy in the car. The heat warms our chill bodies. 

             The sun shines bright in the sky. Its rays heated the fields, where there was a bunny hopping in the flowers.