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

Update

Catherine saw her GI doctor for the first time yesterday and he decided to switch the formula she was on and make her feed continuous at night. This formula, Peptamen, is broken down a little bit more than the Pediasure and hopefully it will empty her stomach quicker. Last night she was on the new formula and she threw up a few more times than usual...I will try again tonight, hopefully she is just getting used to it. Dr. C has a a few more tricks up his sleeve if this doesn't work until we might think about something more invasive (G-J tube, Niessen). Keep praying!

Comments

Barbara said…
Praying the new formula works. Keep us posted.