The Moose

From loblolly pines and the mean, dark hardiness of spruces, a road just barely taken slips up and in, leading away into the fresh open space, just as it came down to meet a lake.

And then, as if surprised, a small moose appears, not imminent but late, long and slow in striking poses, anchoring himself in the middle ground between parsley and the edge of winter.

• Elizabeth Bishop

• Elizabeth Bishop