Whose trails these are I think I know.
His house is in the gated village though;
he will not see me stopping here
to watch these hills cast long shadows.

My dog must think it queer
to stop without a cafe near
between the cactus and juniper tree
the sunniest morning of the year

He gives his leash a gentle shake
to ask if there is some mistake
the only other sound’s the sweep
of easy wind and rattlesnake.

The foothills are lovely, wide and bright,
But I have formative comments to write,
And papers to grade before I hike
And papers to grade before I hike.

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