Pickers
The old lady passed away
as the elderly will.
Memorial cards arrive belatedly
from places far away.
‘Final Notices’ pile up
on a welcome mat.
Those who knew of her
claimed kinship once removed.
The vacated home picked over
in the measured haste
of part-time mourners.
A heavy recliner disappears
as if a feather upon a morning breeze.
Dainty china rattles in the back
of a fleeing pick-up.
Cushions and drapes buried
into already stuffed trunks.
Dark corvids fly high against the sun,
wait to assist in the clean-up,
their silhouettes reflect justly upon all,
as we run with the spoils.
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