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

Poems from the Carson


Three poems I wrote during my trip to the Carson National Forest with Wilderness Outreach.

Hard labor on the trail
causing selfishness to fail
die to self
for Him to live
t'was what the glorious trail did give.


God's glory seen in every light
morning, evening, flashing might
thin air to make the heart alight
God's glory set my eyes to right

Brown and silver flash in morning sun

from comfort zone, himself is flung

to receive the gift of God most high

He and I must learn to fly

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