Sunrise

Sunrise
Sunrise on Sunset Beach

Saturday, July 27, 2019

On the Idea of Otters

Athens, Georgia
December 21, 2015

Once again I do not see otters 
as I walk my old dog west 
on the loop trail through winter 
woods to shoals and sunset.

I scan the width of gray chop, 
the white froth hugging rocks, 
the slipstreams of submerged 
logs, but all I see is surface 

churn. The sun sets somewhere 
behind layers of gray as I listen 
for the tell-tale chirp. All is quiet 
save the steady shush, so I turn 

back east and follow the brown 
bounce of a hungry dog heading 
toward dinner. Today I missed 
the otters again, though I searched 

with due sincerity. But once on 
an otherwise scripted morning 
in the midst of an unremarkable 
year I watched a romp of river 

puppies swim upstream into fall. 
The sun froze mid-sky as I stood 
on the bank for minutes or hours 
memorizing whiskers and wakes.

Wonders once revealed remain 
hidden. We may glimpse visions.
We may tiptoe into thin terrain, 
but all we keep is absence and 

what spirit haunts an afterglow.
Today I walked an old dog down 
a winter trail to an empty river 
and muffled sunset, and found

they suffice, for I carry the image 
of otters. Ever since their presence 
etched an ordinary day, it’s now 
enough to know they are there.