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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Day 5

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After Mass this morning I visited Catherine. She is still continuing a steady, slow track. They have cut her blood pressure medication almost in half. They have continued working on weaning her off the ventilator and hopefully will be able to switch her to a different, less intense machine. She looks much less bloated today. She weighs almost 7 lbs now but unfortunately that is mostly fluids. Her poor little head is so misshapen from lying on her back with her head turned to the left - it must be for the ventilator - another reason we want her off of that she can move her head. She's still a cutie though!

She was moving around this morning but I think it was more agitation than anything with the nurses moving her around. Well, I'm off to clean and do some laundry before Nicole comes back this afternoon. Keep us in your prayers! Thanks!!

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