For My Students

Poems litter the sidewalk
Fill me head then
Spit out ideas on the classroom floor.

Expectant
I wait for students to trundle in
They carry dried spring mud on the
             bottom of their sneakers
                       to leave behind.

Ideas volley through the air
Sailing like paper airplanes

Caught or missed,
They exist:
Perfect, ripe, temporary.

(Ciampa, Liz.  What is Left.  Boston, MA: Big Table Publishing Co., 2009. p.8. Print.)