Wyoming 130 across the Range
Called Snowy, and it will do so, I fear
Before I may return to it. So strange
Today to see the aspens' hues in gold
And snow accumulated on the ground.
This last trip's memories will have to hold
Me till next spring. I rolled my windows down
Despite the cold, to let in those last smells
For my and Molly's pleasure, let my eyes
Go all unshaded, killed the radio. Spells
Of purest bliss would take me. Such good-byes
Are for all of the senses. But hellos
Await me, too, ahead, in winter's snows.