No Rush

How can it be 
that the first moose
in the wild I'd ever see
would appear
at that moment
I'd bought a new camera,
dropped in the power,
and installed the memory?

And how can it be
that the first moose
in the wild I'd ever see
had the time
in that forest
to stand and wait for me?
Had the moose nowhere
more important to be?

And didn't the moose
(and the muse)
deserve better poetry?


(of course you deserve better, too, but I had hoped maybe my first-ever moose photo would do)

Vicious Cycle

photo by Sharon Auberle, I think

This loss of fitness bears witness to fine sauce and to Guiness, but is thin-ness the litmus by which we are judged? If so, I am somewhere high on the hit list, or at least, I may be witlessly grudged.