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.