I want it cold. I want a mess made in the snow so that the earth looks wounded, forced open, an unwilling participant.
Forgo the tent, stand openly to the weather, get the larger equipment out of sight, it’s a distraction, but have the sexton, all dirt and indifference, remain at hand
Go to the hole in the ground, stand over it, look into it, wonder, and be cold…
… but stay until it’s over, until it’s done.
-Thomas Lynch, undertaker and poet