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Colorado
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
Beautiful Colorado,
I offer you this salutation:
Your lofty grandeur and cold, clear streams
Have captured my admiration.
I’ve watches you each year, changing apparel
Through different seasons,
Each more beautiful than a melody,
And I’m enraptured for these reasons.
Your flowered aspen meadows turn green,
Then to red and gold;
In summer, your lofty mountains are bareheaded,
Yet white-capped in winter’s cold.
Quiet beauty of your secret places
Are in the eyes of the beholder,
Changes with the seasons,
Like colored pictures in a folder.
When first my eyes beheld you,
I knew from the start,
I was chained by your beauty
Like a horse harnessed to a cart.
Wapiti
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
I’ve climbed snow-capped mountains,
Searched lush valleys below.
I’ve trekked through high aspen meadows,
Drinking where hidden streams flow.
I’ve climbed over lofty crags
And walked through wildflower meadows where you roam.
I’ve smelled spruce-laden air
In the untamed beauty you trod and know as home.
I’ve searched when hot and thirsty,
Muscles crying out in pain.
I’ve hunted while wet and hungry
Against your allies, snow and rain.
When matching wits, my hunter’s tricks
Have all seemed to fail,
Yet your courage and strength never falter
As nature helps you prevail.
Each year, aspen trees
Begin wearing coats of red and gold,
When campfires flicker in the mountains
Against night air, crispy cold.
My ears strain to catch a bugle call,
Which splits the clean, clear air.
The mighty stag, Wapiti,
Is moving in his lair.
Yes, I’ll answer his ringing challenge,
For not to respond would cause me pain.
It’s time to once more play hide-and-seek
On his terms, in his terrain.
My Dream
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
I dreamt of hunting buffalo
And long grass shimmering in the sun.
I saw cold, crystal clear mountain streams,
With its banks bordered by wild flowers.
Away up high, almost a speck against the light blue sky,
A bald eagle surveys his realm.
Although it’s spring time in my dream,
The distant, hazy, purple mountains
Still wear their caps of white.
The air is clean and fresh
And filled with the smell of growing things.
The white-trunked aspens
Keep sentinel in their quiet beauty.
Life is simple but hard.
Man fulfilled his dreams by the strength of his hand,
Sweat from his brow, and cunning of his mind.
He became one with his surroundings.
The world was sustained by natural order,
And it was good.
When I awoke,
I realized that I’m but a dinosaur
Transplanted into a modern time and world.
wfosterwelborn 