Living hopes

The masts move slow to wind,
Fish not being ready to die yet,

Butterflies not flying creatures
Flitting in brilliant spring colors

But hopeful boats swarming in
Yellow blouse draped on them

With hopes held high to catch
The fish deaths in living hopes.

Feeling comes first on a cloud
Shaped as cats and elephants

After a sun in sunflower shape
On vast fields of cotton clouds

To be out any time on our back
A warm presence in our collars.