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North to Alaska’s Klondike Gold Rush,
Such deep sorrows are hard to hush,
Many toiled on the Dead Horse Trail,
the gold miners’ dreams were not meant to fail.
Viewing Yellowstone in the corner of Wyoming,
Deep blue pools mirror the skies,
Old Faithful blows always on time.
Just south to nature’s skyscrapers, the Tetons seem nearer,
Mighty giants admired in a crystal clear watery mirror,
Southwest to Crater Lake; a volcano that can never wake.
A sunken hole filled with clear water most Oregon natives never bother.
In the crook of California that’s where I’ll be,
in the shade of Half Dome admiring the rest of Yosemite,
Shear cliff walls, mighty beauties, and waterfalls.
South more to the Sequoia Kings
Wise wizards trapped in trees to enjoy the scenery for eternity,
East to Bryce Canyon, a maze of clay dollops,
The baby giant sucks on lollipops while he stacks his giant playful drops.
Next door at Zion National Park,
Teardrops fall from a weeping wall, cliff faces painted by Mother Nature’s artistic graces.
South to Grand Canyon to sunset walls,
the Colorado carved through ancient layers as history recalls.
Down to Pearl Harbor over the Arizona Memorial,
Blue skies and an ocean breeze
shroud the sadness of the seas.