THE GOLDEN HILLS

A Colorado Autumn Day
I can’t describe the thrill
I feel inside, each time I see,
Leaves turning gold atop a hill.

As Quaking Aspens do their dance,
Leaves shimmer in the sun’s bright glow.
Too soon they’ll feel Falls’s biting chill,
Then sadly flutter to the ground below.

The Golden Hills of Autumn
Are quickly gone when cold winds blow;
But gladly, they are soon replaced
By scenes of dazzling white and drifting snow.