January Moose

She sits down on the winter ground
Her great shape safeguarding her twins
The mass, the size of her,
Packs down five feet of snow

And presses her body to the slumbering soil

I spent the last three weeks
Trying not to sink
Into the cold, white blanketing ground
To avoid the heft of my own body,
Until I haul myself, heavily wrapped
And slide on the ice to get close enough
To take her picture

I am drawn in
By the pull of her form,
The weight of her,
Joined through the snow to the earth below,
There is purpose in her solidity
Her anatomy knows no shame
The brown of her body
And the brown of the earth
Are one and the same.