Moosey Metaphor

Smashing against the surface with each foaming crest
A cliff against each wave, swelling and smashing asunder
The growling, howling midnight tempest
Tearing at the sky with blunt slashes of thunder
Here it stands glassy-eyed, and irresolute.

The color of day-dead cup of golds,
Wilting, waning in their day-old vase
Autumn-worn leaves flitting in the cold
Breeze, scattered into empty space
Such is the coat of this majestic brute.

Like Peleus’ son, with his ever- swift foot
Winter-starved wolves surround
Yellowed teeth, eyes duller than soot
They let their fiercest howl resound
There is no escape in sight.

But shaking, it stood Hector-firm
As outside the leering gates of Troy
Bounding up a mossy berm
Finding success in a daring ploy

Using wisdom to overcome might,
This gentle moose solved its plight.