Guess the guy :P

Harvest 
There is a hooded figure between the rows,
Strolling by without a care,
His head the vested nest of crows,
Stalk by stalk fall through the air.

Evening falls, He turns away,
From the darkening rows of mortal light,
Stride by stride he makes his way,
To the dwelling where he spends the night.

Behind him stalks begin to slow,
Movement sapping from every limb,
Until they freeze, bent like bows,
And the field’s light starts to dim.

At the portal he pauses thus,
His shadow framed in doorway,
Turns his head to look at us,
And walks in as we turn to gray.