The colors came back to the trees
Yellow, red and bright orange leaves,
The azure fall sky so deep so blue
Mornings bring a twinge of winters Que.
The nostrils leave trails of breath as we climb
The leather is crisp and the air is divine,
The free flowing streams cold and clear
Always taste better in the fall of the year,
Some ride in cars and some ride bikes,
Some camp in parks and others take hikes,

A day, maybe two spent hurrying around
They take there pictures, aww how nice, then head back to town,
And they miss the sounds of the eagle as she soars
The whisper of the wind the creaks of old barn boards,
The waterfalls hidden deep in places not easily found
Where the sky bends down and heaven touches the ground,
In saddle, on trusted friend I ride to be close to all I see
As did the Indians here so long ago when they roamed the mountains free,
But as the leaves give way to death
And winters sting removes the breath,
On reservations now they remain
And a way of life is all but shame,
They trusted those, who now return each fall to see the leaves
But the mountains know, yes the mountains know it won’t be long before the colors come back to the trees…