Fall is leaving —   is the waving flurry of a thousand goodbyes, their deciduous mortality decided long ago,  a long downpour in endless succession, like the energy of life has packed up to find a new home. Fall is leaving,  is that label, “homeless.”  I should have known she’d be gone too soon,  had I only known how to read  her face, imprinted in my mind,  but my illiterate hands wrote no note of goodbye.  I thought “I’m leaving” was a sappy try  for extra treats, a threat to punish my consequence.  The girl who asked if I knew how…