“When death

carts me off to the bottomlands

when I begin

the long work of rising —

Death, whoever and whatever you are, tallest kind of tall kings,

grant me these wishes:

unstring my bones;

let me be not one thing but all things, and wondrously scattered,

shake me free from my name.

Let the wind, and the wildflowers, and the catbird

never know it. Let time loosen me like the bead of a flower from its wrappings

of leaves. Let me begin the changes, let me –”
“Gravel,” Mary Oliver.