In this high mountain valley our little town is quiet,
the souvenir shops are boarded up, closed for the winter,
their owners and the tourists gone south
down the mountain with the last trains.
We won’t see them again until next year
when the toot of the whistle and the chuff of the steam engine
herald a new season.
The deer and the elk have gone below too, followed by the hunters.
The brilliant colored h…
