When you plunged <br />The light of Tuscany wavered <br />And swung through the pool <br />From top to bottom. <br /> <br />I loved your wet head and smashing crawl, <br />Your fine swimmer's back and shoulders <br />Surfacing and surfacing again <br />This year and every year since. <br /> <br />I sat dry-throated on the warm stones. <br />You were beyond me. <br />The mellowed clarities, the grape-deep air <br />Thinned and disappointed. <br /> <br />Thank God for the slow loadening, <br />When I hold you now <br />We are close and deep <br />As the atmosphere on water. <br /> <br />My two hands are plumbed water. <br />You are my palpable, lithe <br />Otter of memory <br />In the pool of the moment, <br /> <br />Turning to swim on your back, <br />Each silent, thigh-shaking kick <br />Re-tilting the light, <br />Heaving the cool at your neck. <br /> <br />And suddenly you're out, <br />Back again, intent as ever, <br />Heavy and frisky in your freshened pelt, <br />Printing the stones.<br /><br />Seamus Heaney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-otter/
