TWO POEMS BY ULRICH WENDT

MOOSE AT BOG LAKE

As though they had always been there, they appeared at dusk
silently from among the cedars, through the dead grasses,
and knelt to drink at the star-filled water.

What wind there was came from the east and like a sigh
one by one they raised their improbable heads with the sad, calm eyes
and turned to fade into the gathering mist, fade into the forest and away
as though they had never been there.


FOR LAURA

Lost in what looks from below like pleasure,
the crane is beating hard against the wind.
Come with me soon to Birch River.
He will not be held on the air like this
forever.

Ulrich Wendt is a former resident of Thunder Bay