Two mornings after Christmas,
I walked while my brother
Pedaled circles in front of me
With his new bike.
It was four miles of time to
Talk about the small mysteries of
Our sunny dome seen by his curious eyes.
The clouds were a tangle of
Shifting cotton that day.
He watched the commotion attentively
When the path was straight and smooth,
Commenting that the little clouds
Flew faster than the big ones
Because they were scared of being eaten.
I smiled and, becoming the
Intelligent older sister, decided to
Describe the formation of water vapor.
Articulating my words for tinier ears,
I explained evaporation, condensation,
And why raindrops come tumbling down.
“Oh!” he exclaimed excitedly,
Understanding lighting his pink face,
“So we really drink clouds!”
I love that morning memory.