Leaves Like Tears

You say the leaves fall
like tears, a dry vine trembles
on the wall, the wind mourns
in weeds by the fence, drifted
in windows with the whisper
weeds make before snow?
The thin piping of chickadees
fades in an immense echo of sky,
the messages all read, low
pale sun, wind north, earth
frozen, her hands quiet?
Then stand bare to grief
and be silent, throw a shawl
over sorrow’s head and lead her
home, we’ve heard enough
sobbing for one day.