The
Moose
Silent
At twilight
In the mountain pond
Watched us approach without alarm.
It chomped calmly, water grasses dripping from its mouth.
While not inviting us to stay, it seemed to have no objection to our
presence there.
Later we serenaded it from our campfire, and from time to time its
sodden steps replied from the darkness beyond our flickering light.
(Based on the Fibonacci sequence, so the number of syllables in each line of the poem is the sum of the previous two lines: 1,1,2,3,5,8,13,21,34, etc.)
Chuck Toll
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/fibbing-truce/
