The speaker is getting ready for death the way someone might balance a household budget. The title, "Forward planning," sounds brisk and practical, and the opening lines play along: "making up my accounts." But what gets counted is strikingly small. A tongue, a bit of talk, a pretty house, a moon, each one tagged with "little." That repeated word gives the list a modest, almost tender tone, as if the speaker is looking over a life that was never grand but was still their own.
The mood is calm, gently wry, and a little wistful. There's no panic here, and no big speech about dying. Then the ending turns things. "In the cards / an opportunity to be" suggests fortune-telling, and the unfinished sentence leaves a pause where we expect an answer. Judging by the wording, the speaker may be hinting that even now, with the accounts nearly closed, something is still left to become, or simply to be alive.