The Seasons: A Poem

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

More Sunday Pictures...

Anthony was pounced upon by the two "pumas".


There are two boys in this picture. Can you find the other one. He has his camo on.

Oh there he is...

He disappeared again. That camo really works! Can you find him?

On the lower trail behind the house.

Some deer scrapes.

Climbing the hill to the "cliffs".

These "cliffs" are sandstone ledges made when my parents house was built in the 1800's. The sandstone was used as the foundation of the house and the barn. You can still see the drill holes where they dropped the dynamite.




Our famous Catherine top right. She is in negotiations with Nike.

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