The last time we spoke,
you asked me to watch
the movie My Octopus Teacher.
Today, I remember high school,
our algebra teacher, a kindly octopus
explaining the decimal system with eight arms.
And I think of the facile equations,
Summer's expectation of Winter,
the horizon of Time,
whose tendrils reach always
and away, toward the eye of the sun.
While here, all is water flowing.