A fall of leaves, dark red
               spilling from the dogwood spray
                    against the deep green mass of the cedar
 
          Is it heart’s blood?
               No
 
          Trees don’t bleed
               Nor do I
 
          It only feels as though
               my tears were blood
                    when there are no tears, but should be
 
          My loss gapes
               like a wound
                    a desperate wound
 
          But I forgot how to sob
               decades ago
 
          The first time I lost her
               I wept
                    every night I wept, in secret I wept
 
          That time
               she came back from the lost
                    this time there will be no returning
 
          And this time
               I must allow nature to weep for me, bleed for me
                    mirror my loss in this, her season
 

In memory of my mother:
One Crossing
Too Late
Beacons Unreachable
Beauty in the Close
Missing Her
Grievous Loss