by Don Two
With some people, no rainbows are possible.
|“The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, |
you gotta put up with the rain.”
Arc of color, rainbow vision
brought about by light and rain.
Rain for the just, and the unjust;
beauty ever will remain.
What is the beauty we admire?
Why is the spectrum made for awe?
It’s there to give us evidence
that things abide by nature’s law.
We tolerate the rain, all right,
to see the lasting treasures high.
And tolerating things in life
oft brings fair visions we espy.
But sometimes visions fade to gray;
there are no colors to enjoy.
The pour of rain has overwhelmed
the light of sun and its employ.
Rain’s like the wet of disrespect
that happens all too frequently.
Yet we’ve a rainbow at the end
when through the rain, we try to see.
Alas, there is a point, I know,
when rain is hard and thunder roars.
At that point there’s no rainbow ‘round
because of how hard the rain pours.
(My peace of mind the rainbow arc;
the rain a cousin spewing hate.
A dimming of the light on high
because her spite would not abate.)
I tolerated rain, of course,
in hopes a rainbow still would light.
A thunderclap of hatefulness
removed all colors from my sight.