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
while snow, against windows
makes nary a sound,
in Winter.

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

I look at you and I see,
this resemblance
that looks like me.
Why is that I say to you,
when I'm with the monkeys
at the Woodlawn Park Zoo?

Roaring in, from the East it came.
An ill wind, that will ever remain,
carrying a virus, no plan in mind
except the destruction of today's mankind.
Ill prepared were those left in charge
to face the attack and heavy barrage,
attacking all without reason or rage.
preying on those who were of old age.

The Daffodils swayed,
The Tulips did dance,
In the filtered Moonlight
Of a garden Romance.