R is for Rain, earliest of words. If there’s anything we share, it’s sun and rain. Falling water turned into creeks. We played in rain without a care. We laugh when we’re caught without an umbrella. February turns it on. While behind us another is too shy to share even this. S starts a word grown-ups cannot say. We listen to the rain on the roof at night, helping us forget all care. What did we know of too shy? Why weren’t we there? Would we have made a difference? When someone takes their own life, where do we start?