Robert Paul Allen  lives on a lake near the coast of Maine. He is surrounded daily by the state’s rugged beauty. He worked  in the medical field in patient care and has seen the gamut of human trials and tribulations. The human condition inspires much of his poetry. He has been a serious poet for the past five years and has published 46 poems. His first chapbook, Between the Panes has just been published. He believes he still has something to say.

Off Course

When my young boys ran into the house

shouting, “There’s a horse in the back yard”!!!,

I ran out to see. They were not far off, 

There she stood, a Cow Moose, six feet high.



She flapped her ears and stared back at me 

as if I was from another planet. 

I kept back as she ambled up the drive.

She avoided the sidewalks, and meandered



down Main Street towards town center.

Soon cars were backed up in both directions. 

People at each end of the line, who couldn’t see 

the moose, began to honk their horns.

 

The commotion seemed to spur her forward.

She loped past the church to the bank,

then paused to eat flowers in a concrete planter.

The police showed up and Officer McCoy 



armed with his taser and handgun stood there,

took off his hat, and scratched his head.  

He watched and waited then followed her 

in his cruiser, lights flashing, no siren. 



She headed toward the stores downtown, 

There the moose stopped by the dress shop.

They didn’t have her size, so she went on 

to the pizzeria. She stood transfixed by the dough 



as it spun through the air. When the door slammed 

shut, she moved on to the bridge. With four giant

steps of her spindly legs she strode down the steep 

slope into the water. Gangly and awkward 



on land, she swam masterfully across the river. 

On the far shore, she clambered up the muddy 

bank, paused, and stood looking back at us

as if to apologize for all the fuss.



Then she turned, put her head down, and trotted

straight into the Maine woods, back on course.