The creamy plumes fall up into the sky;
their vapor climbs with heat and swells above.
The chilly sails grace autumn eve on high,
until they spill upon the peaks I love.
The driving snow invites a silent peace
as then I gauge the bumpy diamond face.
I plunge between the moguls’ every crease
and feel with joy the force that makes me race.
Come spring the heat is back. The snow can’t stay
and swiftly floods the rowdy rivers’ banks.
My moguls still abound, but now they spray
as I go paddling down these rapids’ ranks.
O! be it vapor, splash, or mountain bowl,
the gushing white of water soaks my soul.

--

--

As we head west there’s granite in the sky;
the mountains here are miles tall and wise.
Town’s muggy air grows fresh the more we rise
and worries seem to perish up this high.
The timeless ranges stand as years wear by,
they shape the very weather with their size,
and watch as life evolves with ancient eyes.
The Rockies are so old they’ll never die,
and yet they’re born again with each new day.
In spring their peaks are dulled by melting snow.
Their canyon walls are carved by water’s spray.
Erosion is the only home I know,
for as their rivers flow, their forests grow,
the Rockies’ mountain granduer ne’er decays.

--

--

Come close your eyes and listen to this herz;
her ghostly whistle echoes from afar.
Come hear how she was once just rusty parts.
Come see how she now sparkles like a star.
Her panting might abounds around the bend.
She rumbles to the station with a roar.
Her hissing pulse and chuffing beats ne’er end.
Their rhythm shakes the ground and pounds the floor.
My passions' fiery blaze doth fuel her speed;
the flames of love burn hot within her stove.
My dreams like smoke and steam this engine bleeds
as through the Rocky Mountains she does rove.
So climb aboard and ride her if you dare.
To where? Who cares! We’ll know when we get there.

--

--

Come travel back to days of old. Why not?
For memories will fade without the care.
Recount a story. Any that you dare.
Embark upon adventures grand in thought
and lead us to the headwaters we sought.
Unfold a tale that traps us like a snare;
unveil a piece of who you are and share
a glimpse of all the wonder that you’ve got.
Ah hah. At last. The Storyteller’s here!
With words they muster magic and excite.
We sit around the campfire in fear
or drown in tears of laughter and delight.
Now all aboard as once upon a time
a poet hid a ticket in his rhyme...

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