mrs. lynch

you see
mrs. lynch, her
silver hair
pulled back
tightly under
a blue scarf
walking down union
street
with her
wheeled
basket behind
her.
a large black
purse slung over
her bent
shoulders.
she is looking
down more
than up,
listening to
the rhythm of
the cars
before crossing
each street.
she is going
towards an old
house where
the foundation
has been bared
to reveal the fragments
of pottery
and glass, broken
jars,
silverware.
with her life
nearing it's end,
her husband gone
her children
raised and off into
their own worlds
this is what
she wants to do.
kneel in the dirt
and discover what
used to be new.