Portents

Over the last two weeks I've seen about 8 or 9 people in public sitting with their heads literally in their hands. The youngest was about 6; the oldest, at least 60. I've felt intrusive, prurient seeing them, but I can't help staring. I thought the "head in the hands" posture was something straight out of bad fiction. Were I a different sort of person, I'd try to find meaning in this. Instead I'm looking for a poem.