I come down the lane and have to slow down,
There's movement in the fields on both sides.
I can see elk everywhere as their ghostly shapes move,
And across the road an ocasional one glides.

On down the road, as I approach town,
A big herd of elk is again in my way.
They muddle around, trying to jump the fence,
Caught in my lights, they're nervous and grey.

On past the bypass, a block from the main street,
I'm stopped again by a beautiful sight.
A big lone bull elk saunters out onto the road,
Showing his 6-point rack in all of his might.

He stands there and poses, silhouetted by the light
Of the town, the snow continues to fall.
A magical sight, then more bull elk come down,
And they stand so majestic and tall.

By now I'm running late, but I don't really care,
This is one of the reasons I live here.
For it's only in Estes in winter you find
That the wildlife co-exists without fear.

The street lights in town illuminate the snow,
It's a scene for Norman Rockwell, it seems.
For it's a typical night in Estes in winter,
One assumes others see only in their dreams.