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

Which Title Do You Like Better?

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is:
Sir James the Flavoursome of Ofsted in the Bucket
Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title


My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is:
His Eminence the Very Lord James the Paragon of Nether Wombleshire

Comments

Sarah Reinhard said…
I think, based on the homebrew, it has to be Sir James the Flavoursome of Ofsted in the Bucket. :)
James M. Hahn said…
I thought so too! How perfect! Someone bring me a goblet of something cool and refreshing and my pipe as well...
Anonymous said…
I was going to say what Sarah said!
James M. Hahn said…
I will have the royal seal maker make a...well, a seal. Summons the royal seal maker and bring me my harp...