Appellation

Otter ripples
Up and down the strip
Three hops and a glide
A bounce
A pounce
A nip and run away

Just half grown
—An otterling—
Still learning his
Capacities
His teeth and claws
Testing the
Muscled water of his
Lunge

He
Somersaults between
Frustration and playful
Delight in
Bite and tease and squirm
Impatient that he hasn’t quite
Assumed his final
Form
Not yet reconciled to the fact that
Some fish get away

I watch him wrestle, bout and
Grow in skill and
Speed
Sure-footed execution
Soon he will outpace my reach
Larking in his native element

May he always fence with otter confidence,
Otterly absorbed in his pursuit