As If to
Demonstrate an Eclipse
I pick
an orange from a wicker basket
and
place it on the table
to
represent the sun.
Then
down at the other end
a blue
and white marble
becomes
the earth
and
nearby I lay the little moon of an aspirin.
I get a
glass from a cabinet,
open a
bottle of wine,
then I
sit in a ladder-back chair,
a
benevolent god presiding
over a
miniature creation myth,
and I
begin to sing
a
homemade canticle of thanks
for this
perfect little arrangement,
for not
making the earth too hot or cold
not
making it spin too fast or slow
so that
the grove of orange trees
and the
owl become possible,
not to
mention the rolling wave,
the play
of clouds, geese in flight,
and the
Z of lightning on a dark lake.
Then I
fill my glass again
and give
thanks for the trout,
the oak,
and the yellow feather,
singing
the room full of shadows,
as sun
and earth and moon
circle
one another in their impeccable orbit
and I
get more and more cockeyed with gratitude.
—Billy
Collins
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