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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Summer Vacation

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Tomorrow is not only the first day of the rest of my life (assuming the good Lord allows me to make it that far - is that a sin? does assumption border or cross the line into presumption? is this scrupulous?) it is also the first day of summer vacation for yours truly. Of course, I do feel a bit guilty taking two months off but rest assured I'll be busy. The "to do" list has lengthened a bit since the spring. I look forward to playing with the boys, gardening, working on the bookstore, writing, traveling, making beer, smoking my pipe and much much more. I also hope to get back into the habit of posting regularly. Things have been crazy lately with things I'd rather not post about yet but soon. Make sure you email me if you might be going to the Ohio Brew Week festivities!

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