Sunrise over Amazing Grasses Family Farm The mad Artist wields His brush, Painted colors rush, To life and give flush, Before the quiet autumn hush. The life seems to pour, As colors fall to the floor, To be seen no more, Outside the dark, grey door. Brightness from below, Sun upon the snow, High, cold clouds blow, Flakes and ice appear to grow. The man melts with little seen, Underneath, pale, grey green, Hides life in dark unseen, Waits for warmth and to careen. Buds on branches show, Patience starts to grow, Trickles, streams and veins flow, Bringing fruits of melted snow. Sprung to life it springs, Bees, birds, sound rings, Lush green flings, Its gift bounty brings. Green growth gives one last rush, Underneath the Painter's brush. The mad Artist wields His brush, before the quiet autumn hush. More poetry is available from James M. Hahn in The Last Dragon and Other Poems available now. My new book of cryptogram puzzles " Secret Messages from the Saints " is avai
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I am already fearing that time since that picture was simply the first serving. We usually go through 12-18 eggs for breakfast and I already have to double the pancake mix in order to have enough for Nicole and me.
Matt,
I really don't know what to say. Obviously you didn't either. Got to love those B.I.Ls