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Autumn Aspens: Cumbres Pass

Though stands low on the mountain
remain green as sliced limes,
higher up, midsummer's far gone

in flaming amazement. When wind
riffling a ridgeline grove
fans our caveman sense of fire

as a wonder lovely to own,
over Cumbres Pass gold leaves
spill and spin like doubloons

till flame and coin seem one,
close as we'll come to money
on trees loved for their moment

almost better than money. Just when
have we spent such afternoons?
Less than once in a hundred?

That many? Then stop the car
again. At happiness to burn. Bright
as the life we're still looking for.

-Reg Saner, 1997