"We do know this much:
that it billowed white at the mountainous top
and its flat underside was the grey of headstones;
that it slid onto the land and felt its way
over the contours of several western states,
always moving eastward, from left to right
the way eyes move over print
as if it were reading the earth with its blind shadow.
Otherwise, it did nothing
but allow itself to be blown through the high cold
atmosphere,
though it was always changing shapes
and assumed in its lifetime the form
of Australia, the head of an enormous dog,
a sheep on the run, a hippo with its mouth agape,
and even the camel that passed through the eye of Hamlet. "
from Biography of a Cloud
by Billy Collins
"Today was the first time in a couple of weeks that the smoke pulled back enough to allow us blue sky. We planted some volunteer spruce that we got from the farm and raided Rigmor's garden for cucumbers, tomatoes, potatoes, carrots and corn. And the harvested hay field suddenly sprouted a neighbours cows takings a walkabout under the blue skies.
Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.
It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.
No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart."
from Forgetfulness
by Billy Collins
