I remember when Apaloosa turned orange in September.
Carving through those woven hills, we motored over fall.
You packed a picnic —picturesque, in a wicker basket
You pulled off to the side of a mountain, hurried out, and pulled my door open.
We gallantly strived for the most scenic view
Of the world in its whole, a gift given to only me and you.
© Betty B. Goodman