Octopus Teacher

First published in Brief Wilderness 

This poem is orphaned from the swimmer
almost dead in the water, frozen in the Sound,
searching for the creature with many arms
in the deep dank, seeking meaning
in the bottom crawl. 

A playful seal appears, tempers the mood,
nudges his side, peers in his eyes.
The profound caverns of this creature’s mind reflect
its mute intelligence,
their bodies waterslide, warmed by frolic,
distracted from the penetrating cold. 

My son, bare skin goose-bumped
and chill swims back to shore
to a hot shower, still alive, 
the trauma of frigid waters banished, 
memories of a playful mammal
and undersea rocks blanketed with crabs endure, 
nary an octopus in sight.