Marchell Dyon

We summer on our neighbors’ porches
We tan like we have feathers
´Til our skin streaks with gold

The clouds above are lions
Jungle kings of air
Tracking the sun

Pouncing on light
Standing on two legs
Devouring Helios’ flame

For a breath taking moment
Dove tinted clouds shade the world
From gold to gray

Striking fear in us,

We anticipated missiles of rain
Instead cannon balls
Of sun rays peers out again.