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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Life is the Issue

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Contrary to popular voices, the right to life is the fundamental issue of this election as it has been in previous elections. If one does not respect the fundamental right to life, the conversation is over. There is no need to discuss healthcare, taxes, economy, security, etc., if the weakest in society are denied the basic right to be born.

What sort of country do we live in where the destruction of innocent human life is seen as a right protected by law? Surely our great-grandchildren will look at us with the same disbelief that we have when looking back to Nazi Germany. I only pray that those same descendants will cry out "never again."

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