Bugle calls roar
At the crack of dawn
As Elks trudge
The ancient meadow floor.
Startled, the frozen sagebrush,
Grayish green,
Shake off the silvery frosts
That coat their coarse, hardy limbs.
Nearby, A bashful vapor of
Rosy clouds, hover at the foot
of the towering Teton, whose glaciers
glitter like mirrors
To the pale moon
Retreating from night shift
While whispering Adios
Ever so reluctantly to the riverbank
As Aspen quaver in breeze,
its little round smiling faces,
Shower kisses to the morning
Of yellow and orange hue.
A world of my heavenly Father!
