We Buried Crazy Nellie

By the tree behind the church.
The dirt bounced on her coffin rhythmically...indifferent
to sycamore leaves dancing shadows
down the flagstone path.
I stopped at her well and dipped her worn cup;
sipping silently among cicadas.
No one talks of Nellie now.
Her house is locked and boarded.
And all her mysteries
will go unsolved-sold in weekend auction,
Some shared memories stay with us.
We used to steal arbor grapes
and apples in shortcutting to the creek.
Once she laid a cement sidewalk
and behind the curtains watched:
Small hands printing
fingers, palms and thumbs-
Initials big and bold
next to Ross's paw prints all engraved.
They're solid silent now beneath my feet