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| About Sinclair Moose Several years ago, I remember the excitement in our town when we had our first moose sighting. We had been hearing reports about moose that were slowly migrating from Canada and venturing deeper and deeper south into the Adirondacks. When word spread that a moose was spotted in a farmer's field, like other people in town, I went to have a look for myself. After several days of driving up and down Sinclair Road, I finally spotted the moose. I wasn't satisfied with the view I had from my car, so I got out and started walking toward him until he noticed me. To my surprise, he didn't bolt like a deer would, perhaps not yet fearing humans. I felt if I had gotten any closer, it would have made both of us uncomfortable, so there I stood until for whatever reason the moose decided to leave. To this day, it is still the only time I have ever seen a moose in the wild. I had recently seen a painting of a moose, grazing near the lakeshore that rekindled these old memories, which inspired me to write this poem. |
| About Out of Reach When I was growing up, every September my brothers and I would find ourselves hiking through the woods to a private orchard, not far from our home. To get to the orchard, we had to cross a field that always had horses grazing in the pasture. My fondest memories always come back to the 3 obstacles we would encounter along the way. The first obstacle was trying to avoid getting caught by the owners. The second, was trying to get the best apples, which always seemed to be near the tops of the trees. The third obstacle being those horses that always chased after us, hungry for more of the apples that we fed to them on our way home. Once at home, we would divide the apples between us while talking about our adventures. Almost being trampled by horses was, without a doubt, the most exciting part of our adventure, but the thing that always stuck in my mind was how we all would mention the same single apple that none of us could reach. Every time I read this poem, it reminds me of those days. Even now, when I take my own kids to go pick apples, that one perfect apple seems to still be mocking me, still there, still out of reach. |