The Seasons: A Poem

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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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Finished product

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This beer has been a long time coming. If you haven't been following the process you can start with the recipe. Then check out the rest of the pictures from brewing to bottling here (disregard the Blueberry Wheat, hope to bottle that soon.)
And here is the beauty we're left with and boy is it good. I think this is the best beer I've ever made (so far). It's nice and hoppy but not overwhelming like the Hoppy Red Ale. For now we're calling this brew Cupid's Arrow Ale. If any of it lasts till March we'll rename it the Drunken Leprechaun. Cheers!

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