Up there,
In the north woods
Of Minnesota
Where I was bait for flies
Big as gas guzzlers,
A friend offered the name
Of a bird,
Handed it off, like,
No big deal.
A crimson stripe
Across each sleeve
Became two gaudy fans
When he stretched for flight,
Is how I described him.
Then, Moose ambled
From shades of trees.
Dusk gathered quickly,
Leaving places farther
Flung than we were,
Bereft.
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