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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

Pumpkins and Sacraments

Buried Treasure: The Patrimony of the Church

Storing Up Riches for Others

What Happened When I Picked up a Hitchhiker.

No More Complaining!

At Least They're Here...

Hard Business Lesson

When God says no.

In Conversation with God

Ask the DRE

Fridge Art I Spy

Act of Contrition or Act of Sorrow

The Stranger - I

Help Saint Gabriel Radio

Beer Wars Movie

Did someone say something about fairness?

Hike

Now that's some snow.

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