And with Yeats you lean against a broken pear tree,the day hooded by low clouds.

Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel? By th' mass and 'tis, like a camel indeed. Methinks it is like a weasel. It is backed like a weasel. Or like a whale. Very like a whale.

My prophecy is but half his journey yet, For yonder walls, that pertly front your town, Yon towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds, Must kiss their own feet.

I went to an audition the other day, they were casting 13 people to be clouds, 14 people showed up, it was overcast.

I saw the spiders marching through the air,Swimming from tree to tree that mildewed dayIn latter August when the hayCame creaking to the barn.

Every morning, she'd look at the tree and rejoice in a new day.