Weird for Sunday Scribblings

I walked out
onto the snow-covered
porch this morning
in my slippers
and PJs
to take a picture
of the moon

just before it slipped
behind the elephant
shape of Mt. Forist.

During the summer
I bike to the beach
and sit among
all the sunbathers
with my clothes
on and a book
or pencil
in my hands.

When I read
the poem-of-the-day
to my students,
I wait until
everyone is still
and they all have
a copy of the poem
on their desks
to follow along with.

If even one kid
reaches into her purse
or closes his notebook,
I stop reading
and wait…
while the other kids
shift their eyes
but not their heads
to see the offending
student.

I walk
in the black silkiness
of night
when the stars
form a map
for my thoughts
and the moon
is a nugget of poetry
that feels like a heart
beating…beating.