The Aspen Spires

The Aspen spires in the distance are hailng us,
swaying gently in the wind with colors luminous.
From our precarious perch, a sparkling, sun-dappled view
of shimmering, shivering glints of sunlight against a palid sky of blue.

Land of crags and steeples, running waters most pure,
wonder of wonders, dazzling sights and a temptress to lure.
Earth Enchantress, we clasp our hearts at this noble tome
of glimmering ribbons of glass against peaks of golden stone.  

Small creatures scurry to their humble burrough homes
in this forest of fluttering leaves and yellow tones,
running and jumping together or alone, each to its measure,
joyful outbursts of laughter and rapturous pleasure.  

A worn trail takes us ambling along
through the grasses and trees. Do you hear a faint song?
Down fall the leaves overhead, whirling about.
The aspen are whispering. We are welcome, no doubt.

Viola Geary Odell
October 2011

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