Winter grips the
Harvest tree
Stripped of proof of life
the once-vibrant colors
lay decaying in the dirt
Turned brown like the
Fallow field
The riches that grew there
Hauled away
It feels as if all life
in this place has been
Spirited away
leaving the shed skin
proof of life's abundant harvest
Scattered about like
like a trail of tears
Proof of life escapes me
As my once vibrant colors
Lay decaying on the poem's page
The harvest tree to be
My forever home