Going to the Snowy Range in July

On a day in late July, we are going to
the Snowy Range in Laramie Wyoming,
driving through the dirt road; O, the cloud 
of dust, the fog of our youthful dreams, swirling
and chocking us, but no one complins:
the motorcyclists, the couple in an open jeep,
or, closed SUV, all smily and yelping. 
The snow-capped mountain peak ahead drums
to welcome the enthusiasts.

The reservior amid the forest of sweet pines
and green leaves; the sunlights are swiming 
as the fowls glide by. Dad and the son throw 
the line just to tease the fish. The forest floor,
purple and white is a platform for the dancing 
bees and butterflies; the singers 
in the distant, angelic. 
Who would not love the world like that?
The argument we had before lost the voice. 

Passing breeze sighs at the beautiful work of
Mother Nature. So do the clouds and we. 

© Byung A. Fallgren