
Fall colors decorate a mountainous scene,
A setting sun’s gorgeous gleam.
Ascending through perfect pine,
Which emit a scent oh so fine.
Does a fallen tree make a sound,
When it collides on that there ground?
I slip, I stumble, I nearly fall,
Did someone just yell, cannonball?
Cutting through an open patch,
I do believe I’ve met my match.
Hidden behind that aspen tree,
Growling harshly right at me.
I mean you no harm you insane beast,
Go find yourself another bloody feast.
I stick, I move, I’m gone in a flash,
He was lucky I didn’t go Mr. T on his ass.
Riley says: "I don’t care who you are, that’s funny right there.”