Crows and Grace
The old woman walks past
our house
pulling her grocery trolley,
once more,
head down,
leaning forward,
like she does
in heat or chill,
bright or gloom-
She looks over at me
and smiles
for the first time.
I had wondered,
not seeing her for a while,
if she had passed.
Or, like our neighbor
to the left,
if her smile was a sign,
not even mysterious-
The joy of the street
filled with kids on bikes
and the slight pause
when the body is taken away.
He too had smiled,
toothless, wild with life, unafraid
and then his mattress
was on the curb.
Crows sat on it for days
daring him to return.
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