Wakas YAY!

Dried up river beds,
Paint the landscape with famine,
The corn is shrouded,
by the land with rust and light.
The Raven sings the death song.
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Lichen creeps up trees,
Eating at the riddled bark,
The leaved have fallen.
Bare branches crusted with eyes,
Shivering.
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"All things will crumble,
No things last, everything fades,
Into the lost past.
Do not worry my brother,
For this will always be so."
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Young sapling, so new,
Beware of all the dangers that,
Will fall upon you.
Though it would not be fair,
You could be cut down in your youth.
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Bright sun shining down,
Not yet covered by the clouds,
Shall soon be shrouded.
For you are the first to leave,
In harsh and cold winter months.
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Cauliflower wilts,
Lavender blooms fade to grey,
Beans picked before ripe.
No climax for the young plants.
Why did the garden fail to thrive?