Mist Opportunities
At Rainier’s gate, where forests thrive,
And snowy peaks look half alive,
A peaceful scene, all calm and chill—
But something’s lurking near that hill...
The sign says "Welcome!" Loud and clear,
But Bigfoot’s snuck his rear end near.
He’s hidden well in moss and bark,
Just chillin’ there like it’s a park.
(Which, to be fair, it really is,
But cryptids don’t file permits, whiz.)
He’s tired of hype from desert scenes,
Of red rock trails and dry routines.
So now he hikes where fog rolls in,
And snacks on trout with a cheeky grin.
You might have missed him in the mist,
He’s just a blur you can’t resist.
So next time you’re out trekking near,
Snap a shot—he’s probably here.
Just don’t be loud or wear cologne...
He hates the scent of "Mountain Zone."
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