They crowd around the lines of tables,
lift a finger or eyebrow, nod to the chant
of the auctioneer, stamp down grass
at the end of the crushed grass path
that leads along the side of the house,
smothered by the herd.
to the quilts, dishes, a mounted doll,
excited glitter of glassware to chattered
numbers, while the old man leans
against the back door to gaze out
across the yard that never looked
the same as now. Swings rust beneath
towering trees and bushes that need pruning.
He steps back when a woman passes cradling
his wife's can opener in her arms.
the neighbor man stands on his deck above
it all, to survey the yards. He looks for his
daughter's return to his home, his family
ready to sit again at the table for evening
meal, to gather her into himself before
sun sets behind cloud's haze. He turns
his back on the sale and the old man watches
while his home passes out from the yard.