Excerpt from "The Moose" by Elizabeth Bishop
Now, it's all right now
even to fall asleep
just as on all those nights
--Suddenly the bus driver
stops with a jolt,
turns off his lights.
A moose has come out of
the impenetrable wood
and stands there, looms, rather
in the middle of the road.
It approaches; it sniffs at
the bus's hot hood.
Towering, antlerless,
high as a church,
homely as a house
(or, safe as houses).
A man's voice assures us
"Perfectly harmless . . . ."
Some of the passengers
exclaim in whispers
childishly, softly,
"Sure are big creatures."
"It's awful plain."
"Look at that, would you."
Then he shifts gears.
For a moment longer,
by craning backward,
the moose can be seen
on the moonlit macadam;
then there's a dim
smell of moose, an acrid
smell of gasoline.