Thursday, February 14, 2013

At The End Of The Rainbow

(A Valentine Memory for my Wife)

I find it hard to believe that rainbow
was created by a lowly “bug,”
or that one tracing to its earthbound end
would find a treasure sitting there.

I spied its shimmering, fleeting flow
each time the breeze would tug
its filament and make it bend
its arc toward your summer chair.

A last I saw it; a long thin thread
that flowed from eave above
and fastened to your chair back,
visible, invisible at whim of air.

Visible, invisible as I have said
until by breeze it moved;
then catching sunlight in its track
it formed a fleeting rainbow there.

Was the spider watching
from some hidden lair
to see what treasures she
had, by her art, ensnared?

Did she know, attaching
sunlight to your summer chair
would turn my gaze to see
the rainbow’s treasure sitting there?

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