Our dog, Hannah and I wended our way
across the Moraine highway
that winds west toward the park.
The front range, rising to our right
and Lumpy Ridge to our left
were shrouded in the post-dawn mist.
A short walkway through speckled fields
of Asters, Mexican Hats and Gallardia
led us to the tall gray slat fence
that lines the path down the hill
to the Big Thompson River Walk.
Hannah and I took copious notes
each in our own way as we took in
the sounds and sights along the trail.
The morning lights danced over
rock-strewn rocks and riffles tumbling down
from the mountain rains and melting snows
and the sweet music of the river
assured us that tranquility exists even
amongst the jagged rocks of a troubled world.
Estes Park, August, 2016
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 11:02 AM UTC
Our dog, Hannah and I wended our way
across the Moraine highway
that winds west toward the park.
The front range, rising to our right
and Lumpy Ridge to our left
were shrouded in the post-dawn mist.
A short walkway through speckled fields
of Asters, Mexican Hats and Gallardia
led us to the tall gray slat fence
that lines the path down the hill
to the Big Thompson River Walk.
Hannah and I took copious notes
each in our own way as we took in
the sounds and sights along the trail.
The morning lights danced over
rock-strewn rocks and riffles tumbling down
from the mountain rains and melting snows
and the sweet music of the river
assured us that tranquility exists even
amongst the jagged rocks of a troubled world.
Estes Park, August, 2016
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