A Year in Haiku

I decided to broaden my cultural horizons by writing a series of haikus.  This is my first attempt at this form—in fact, it's my first attempt at serious poetry—so please don't be too harsh.

Naked winter trees—

dead, bare, clothed in ice and snow—

where animals rest,

are clothed in springtime.

The young buds burst into bloom;

eyes open to sun.

The sun brings summer;

its vibrant rays herald warmth,

its fires ablaze.

The ghost of the flames

decays, is lost to autumn.

The cycle repeats.