Ode to Moose
This speckled dog racing through a wooded glade is a thing of beauty made. He moves with invisibility in and out of sight across the dappled forest floor. I see his husky silver breath condensing in the chilly autumn air as he looks and turns and hear the thunder in his padded feet crushing as he passes twigs and yellowed ferns.
Leaping through the air he clears a fallen mossy log and stops, turns his head and looks at me with a question in his glassy hazel eyes. That exquisite ebony nose has found some elusive felonious clue, a smell of some exotic clandestine thing with feet, fur and eyes and perhaps is meat somewhere not so far away available here, now, today! He breathlessly thinks that I too am privy to this scented secret but sadly I am not. Being only human I see with just my eyes and not in his wondrous way.