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

New Bench for the Mud Room finally finished

Click here for more images of the new bench I built for the family.

Comments

Barbara said…
Very nice, Jim. I love that the wood came from your land. How long did it cure before you milled it?
Patience said…
Wow that is amazing!! It looks like something you'd buy in an expensive antique store.
James M. Hahn said…
My grandfather had it sawed into boards years ago and it sat in the barn for probably 8-10 years before I had it planed (sp).

Thanks Patience, that's the look I was shooting for, an old rustic shoe bench. We love it, cleans up the room and gives us (adults) a place to sit when we're putting on our shoes.