Orisons

Raw-tipped branches
freeze and unflutter.
Chafed knuckles wince
to bud wadeable leaves,
homesick mulch. 

The wind scalped 
so the slough 
crumbles. 

Clutched in trochal
consumption, 
the orant, Grief, 
spent her worth seasons
ago and stopped 
waiting 
to rest, her arms 
down.