Sprague Lake glows in sunset’s blaze,
A perfect end to mountain days.
The sky is lit, the water still—
But wait… what’s that behind the hill?
It’s not a moose, not elk, not deer—
It’s Sasquatch creeping in low gear.
He’s out for peace, a twilight walk,
Not quite ready for small talk.
He stops to take it all in stride,
Snaps a selfie, then tries to hide.
But his giant feet and shaggy mop
Make him tough to Photoshop.
He’s watching ducks, he’s breathing deep,
Living that Bigfoot wellness leap.
He does sunset yoga—warrior pose—
Then disappears before anyone knows.
So if you visit near day’s end,
And feel a presence round the bend,
Don’t be alarmed—it’s just a guest,
Enjoying nature like the rest.
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