Improv Post Four Week Eleven

This is an improv off of "Loss" by C.K. Williams. I interchanged a couple of Williams' lines with my own.

I have felt myself raked into the earth like manure.
Brought back only after someone pulls the weeds.
Someone goes sullen, leans among the rusting
tractor, hoe, whacker in the back of the shed, bought
for pennies from the man across the street from the
bank back in Bowmont. Someone trailed it back to
here, to the deep forest of my backyard, where the
same someone creeps around and points towards
the withering meadows at nothing that I can see.