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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Dig Two Graves

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I was listening to a country station on the way to work this morning. They carry a program called "Rise Up" that focuses on God and all that He does in our life. They played the Alan Jackson song that I associate with my Grandpa and it brought tears to my eyes.

Then they played this song and I nearly had to pull over. It reminded me so much of how my grandparents loved one another and how my grandpa suffered from his loss over the past 9 months. Grab a tissue or two and listen. It's called Dig Two Graves by Randy Travis.

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