The Moose At the Door

THE MOOSE AT THE DOOR
      
In Fairbanks

Winter days are bitter
Nights are deadly frigid
Tires are square
Breath freezes into icy scarves
Auto grills spew plugs like old TVs
In Fairbanks
In the dead of winter

Alaska winter tears the green
Out of the trees

Brittle cold conquers the land
And moose
Deadly dangerous
Desperate to feed their young
Beg at the door
Like raging Buddhist monks with rice bowls
Copyright © | Year Posted 2012

Poem

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October 11, 2012 at 4:17 PM
Interesting analogy, Victoria. I certainly feel the Fairbanks cold in your words and those "raging Buddhist monks" can do a lot of damage to your car should you happen to run into one of them. Thanks for sharing, Joe.
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