I held up the filter paper
with an outstretched arm
to show them how to fold it.
Half the class disappeared behind
the brilliant orb
as I squinted,
and dreamed for tonight’s full moon
to separate out from the constant drip.
II
The whorls of my fingertips
warmed by a tea mug
this winter evening.
Steam rises,
mingles with the bare branches
out my kitchen window.
I’ve caught the full moon
on the end of this string,
bobbing in the dark brew.
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