The Otter

January 14, 2008
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The sleek body of the otter cut through
the thick cold water
his wet fur shining

I could hear his sigh
his longing to
indulge himself forever

I was nine years old then
I still feel the rush of the water in me
I still taste the pine air
the trees around me spread-eagled
asking the expanse above for
more light

just one more starry pinprick
to thrive on

then delight picked me up
a steady current of air
a steady place I believed in

and I was the otter
I was the strongest swimmer
I knew I was meant for more

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