I am reposting writings to see if I can break out of this funk, I'm in.

Soft are the shadows
under the trees,
splashed with the color
of new fallen leaves,
in Autumn.

A bird nest, perched
in the crotch of a tree,
vacant and empty
where life used to be,
in Summer.

Frosts hoary coat, covers
plants and the ground
with snow, against windows
makes nary a sound,
in Winter.

Soon, the cold bleakness
of Winter, will pass
as color and growth
return to the grass,
in Spring.