Yellowstone High Hills


I feel rugged like a mountain man.
The campsite turning quickly into a western frontier shanty town
As more RVs and tents pull in and unfold
There’s community by the hot springs
Travelers from near and far in their bathing suits
Wading where the boiling river meets the cold spring
The moon with its black light glow
Illuminates the clouds of steam
Their ghostlike forms taking flight in the wind
Swimmers group together like a pack of seals
Holding tight to the stone eddies
They laugh and squeal every time the current temp changes
But needless to say, the party has a heated flow
And sometimes the bison come to join it
While the elk bulls continue their windchime-like moans in the background
Most of the time it’s just the young adventurers though
Playing in the festive waters of the volcanic hot spring
On these Yellowstone high hills.


Yellowstone High Hills

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