How Fishermen Deal with Clouds
We hastened to the shoreline, rods in hands—
the summer sun ablaze with puckered lips.
We heeded not to clouds and their demands—
our nets secured mostly boldly to our hips.
We filled our boxes with the latest trends,
we aimed to nab the keepers by the ton.
The clouds kept rolling in from 'round all bends—
we fished before a wound, excited sun.
The clouds were not impressed, not one held back.
they growled like famished tigers on the prowl.
We caught our winners, promptly sent them back—
we plain ignored the tigers every scowl.
For each fish caught and sent back to the foam—
one tiger chased it to its skyline home.
