The Seasons: A Poem

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

The Good Samaritan

Readings for Monday of the Twenty-seventh week of Ordinary Time

Saint Bruno, priest and Blessed Marie-Rose Durocher, virgin



Eden, the original Jerusalem
Adam, protect and tend
Satan, beating man with sin
Fallen all who come after him

Levite, passes on the other side
priest, touched with foolish pride
Man, left along the side to die
From humanity a collective cry

Jesus, the Samaritan
Jesus, healing wounds of sin
Jesus, Adam begins again
Upon Himself to the inn.

Church, the inn to stay
Pope, innkeeper of our day
You, works to repay
"when I come back"on that final day

Comments