“Thirst Swimming with Otter I am watching otter, how he plays in the water, how he displays brave underside to the wave-washings, how he breathes in descent trailing sudden strings of pearls that tell almost, but never quite, where he is apt to rise—how he is gone, gone, so long I despair of him, then he trims, wetly, up the far shore and if he looks back he is surely laughing. I too have taken my self into this summer lake, where the leaves of the trees almost touch, where peace comes in the generosity of water, and I have reached out into the loveliness and I have floated on my flat back to think out a poem or two, not by any means fluid but, dear God, as you have made me, my only quickness.
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