Bon Appetit!

by Leslie Moore

No moose at Moosehead Lake today, but a bullfrog takes
our measure as we cook breakfast at Mudbrook Camp.

Silent, predatory, his eyes break the surface of the lake:
white-rimmed, almond-shaped, horizontal.

Beneath the speckled nub of his nose, a green, elastic lip
stretches to his ears.  His lower lip juts, pale and petulant.

Under his watchful stare, we boil water on our camp stove,
poke embers in the fire, pick melon out of a tupperware dish.

Where are the tea bags?  The oatmeal’s not here.  I can’t find,
a spoon.  Damnit!  I forgot my pills!  No, here they are!

The bullfrog flicks his gaze to a dragonfly hovering overhead.
With a graceful grand jeté he leaps from the water, showing

the length of his leopard-spotted legs, opening his mouth,
and uncoiling his spit sticky tongue to snatch breakfast out of mid-air.

Voilà!
He splashes down and stuffs the gauzy wings into his mouth.