Due to a typographical error, the final word of Robert L. Doty's Voice of the Loon printed in Volume 3 of The Campbellsville Review was incorrect. The editor expresses apology for the error and reprints the entire poem below in its corrected form.

Voice of the Loon

My soul is bound to the voice
Of the loon. The haunting call
Strikes a chord beneath reason's time,
And draws me back to northern woods,
Deep water lakes, with glacial marks,
Huge stones piled on southern shores,
Dragged along the ridge to fall when
Warmth returned in this new age.
The loon's voice echoes through green
Hills and hidden valleys, giving tone
To deep space within.

The pairs display in bonding cries,
And warn intruders of every kind.
Another family splits in sudden dives,
Dividing risk, diverting prying eyes.
And still the call, like a signal bell,
Whose message is not read,
Keeps sounding there and in my mind
Long days and many miles away.

-Robert L. Doty-