The foliage had fled at first-frost br and what remained were the gray fingers br that had once clinched the fruit br the same way the fruit contains br the seed and the seed remains br pillowed in the viscous orange orbs. br br First-snow sifts down into the crevices br of the desolate branches, cradling br the ripening harvest, dangling, br a hundred shrunken pumpkins br in a tree. br br The cold, filtering snow, br the leaves on the browning grass below, br the northwest wind clacking br the sapless twigs all seem to say: br all living things to the earth return; br let go, let go.