"The Green Shelf."
Driving back from the market, bags of groceries beside me.
I saw on a lawn the body of a gray-haired man
twisted beside his power mower.
A woman twisted her hands above him, mouth wide with a cry.
She bent close to him.
Straightened.
Bent again.
Straightened.
And an ambulance stopped at the curb.
I drove past them slowly while helpers kneeled by the man.
Over the stretcher, the lawn mower continued to throb.
And, absently, the hand of the old woman
caressed the shuddering handle.
Back.
I put the soup cans in order on the green shelves--
pickles, canned milk, peas, basil, and tarragon.
Slightly earlier version of that came out in Ironwood here.
I've changed it a little.