There are lots of rainbows here in the rainy season . . .
Rainbow
Pine peaks awash;
chill raindrops
drop from each needle.
Dripping, dropping,
notes of wet,
steady rhythm.
Across the roof our
liquid lullaby dances
through sleepy heads,
until, from under
heavy eyelids, we see…
a muted glow.
Dare we lift the shades
to see only a foggy
diffusion of damp?
Of course we dare!
In the cloud scatter,
a bright orb awakens
our iridescent world,
sprinkling prisms across
the sky to project
on a misty screen
our rainbow arc
of spring’s hope
for green Umpqua,
resting among the peaks.
© 2017 Joanne Sprott