Up in the high country, they were near
Or already past peak gold bouquets.
Nothing ever looked more suited
To an unyieldingly cloudless blue sky
Than vast aspen stands, gold and trembling.
I said, they have nothing to say. I said
It a thousand times, a hundred ways,
And still they had nothing to say.
Dumbfounded, I watched their shimmy,
Scatter, and sway. What if it was only me,
Invasive monkey, self-absorbed trickster,
Who had nothing really to say? They were
Busy, after all, trying to salvage the day.
Frost was right. It's reckless I must go away.
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