The Evolution of Clouds

The Evolution of Clouds

 

Memories play out,
slow, mutable clouds shifting
subtly across the expanse of blue years,

 

becoming truer than what was, like paintings do.
Was there ever a sunflower more real
than Van Gogh’s, or a chair?

 

These days, we’ve become
frank and thorough videophiles,
recording digital truths that,

 

taken together frame by frame, add up
to less than our sums, sorely
lacking the clarity of nuance:

 

the sweetness of Williams’ icebox plums,
the call of Oliver’s wild geese, the way Proulx’s
Rancher Croom rises on air like a cork in a bucket of milk.

 

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