TENDRILS for Dale Erlandson by Jim Kraus

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.