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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A setback for Catherine

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The doctor called this morning, as they do every morning, to say that Catherine had a setback. She started vomiting green, so they put the Anderson tube back in to suction and she is not having anything by mouth. They are thinking that there is an obstruction somewhere, possibly caused by an adhesion caused by the surgery. They are planning an upper GI series (series of x-rays with dye injected down the tube into stomach) to see if they can find an obstruction. She was unsure when this would be done due to the long weekend, but she said they would try to get it done today. She told me that she still looks good. I'll update when we hear the results.

Thanks for your prayers!

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