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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Sword Play

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I apologize in advance to all dial-up users. These pictures were just too good. It is amazing what a piece of PVC pipe, foam insulation, a chunk of wood, and duct tape can do for a boy. In these pictures you will see three of the four battling with our newly made swords thanks to some great instructions from Pondered In My Heart, you brought great joy to my sons with your post. The following pictures are actual combat so the squeamish should be advised. Christopher (in the white shirt throughout) totally whooped his older brother but we won't show the pictures after the battle was over to save his pride. None of the pictures were staged. Also, the lawn mower is broke so when you look at the grass please hear Axel Rose singing "welcome to the jungle....." Enjoy!

















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