Advent: Moose in Moonlight

. . . he hath no form nor comeliness; 
and when we shall see him 
there is no beauty 
that we should desire him. 
—Isaiah 53:2 

Among the death of foliage 
in skeleton trees 
he appears, moonlight gracing 
his rack—that upturned, 

awe-inspiring crown. 
Hint of his heavy breath 
grizzles the air 
beside the ponderous weight. 

He comes to the edge, pauses 
as witness of winter’s extremities, 
careful that our eyes meet: 
stark litigant. 

Flake by flake the dark earth 
fills with exquisite whiteness, 
depth and abundance amplified 
longer than the moon endures.