I saw a shadow in the rippling water,
a darkening of already darkened flow.
Beneath the bridge, like fabled troll, I caught a
glimpse of muscled tail – a glancing blow
upon the river surface was sufficient
to send her soaring swiftly to the depths,
and yet in that brief flash of recognition
came certainty she could be nothing else.
I stood and watched, expectant, as the current
hurried past the spot where she had been,
but, despite my lingering gaze, the torrent
scrubbed the channel’s wild remembrance clean.
At last my eye was caught by more prosaic duck and drake,
leaving Otter, utterly Other, hidden in their wake.

(c) Rich Clarkson 2026