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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Wacky Wednesday - Powered by Plinky

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The one major sporting event that I get most excited about is Rollerchair Ball. Okay, it's not a major sporting event in the traditional sense but it is truly a sporting event. If you take a tablespoon of soccer, mix in a splash of American football, add an old shirt made into a ball, and place everyone on office chairs while wearing pads and a helmet, you have Rollerchair Ball.

The sport is very fast-paced and the rules are as entertaining as the game itself. Cheeking, for instance, is when a butt-cheek leaves the seat during game play and a penalty is applied.

After each game there is usually a "press-conference" where participants are asked about not only the game but current events and random trivia. Even the spectators are encouraged to ask questions of the players.

If you've never watched Rollerchair Ball, you may want to find a game and not only watch but play as well, but "pun intended" no cheeking!

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