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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Learning never stops

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I have four boys so you would think that I would know a little bit about rearing kids. This should be especially true in the basics - food, shelter, clothing, etc. However, with the birth of Catherine Therese and her wonderful homecoming, I have found that I have at least two things to learn (so far)
1. How to bottle feed a child.
2. How to change a girl's diaper!

Comments

Barbara said…
That girl's diaper cleaning can be tricky! After three boys, I had to ask the nurse in the hospital to give me a lesson. At least she is not likely to pee on you!
9:59 AM
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