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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Catherine

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Thank you Grandma Hahn for the hat!!! And if you look closely you'll see she has her hearing aids. And as with the eye patch, she is already getting pretty good at ripping them out of her ears! I gave up on the patches (as it takes her less than a few minutes until she takes it off) until I speak with the doctor in a week and a half. The audiologist mentioned a bonnet that she could wear if she starts taking them off...in the meantime maybe grandma's hat will work ;-)

Comments

Anonymous said…
A chorus of "AWWWW" over here from my littles. Might we be seeing her one Sunday morning at the gym? BTW everyone I've "recruited" is failing the FB Bible quiz!
9:41 PM
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