The Sound

Somewhere an otter ceases her frolicking.
She sniffs at a sound coming from high above her.
Her pups pay no heed,
So enthralled are they with their watery playground
And the crunch of crayfish.
She moves her head from side to side, now up and down,
Rearranging the whiskers on her glistening face.
Somewhere, something is calling to her.
She can’t locate the source,
And so, beckoned by children,
And the constant coolness of the creek,
She returns to her life,
But never forgets the sound.

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