A poem about appreciating the beauty and mystery of nature's spectral wonder.
|I wonder what magic lies over the rainbow,|
hiding behind that magnificent arc.
Perhaps there’s a world filled with glorious beauty,
or maybe it’s actually gloomy and dark.
They say there’s a pot of gold waiting for someone
who follows the spectrum right down to the ground.
But it always fades before anyone gets there,
so that cache of riches has never been found.
The science is simple - just raindrops and sunlight,
reflection, refraction, dispersion and such.
But I’d rather think I could actually go out
and find myself one I could reach out and touch.
If no pot of gold waited there at the bottom,
I’d climb to the top and slide down the far side.
And there I’d be sure to find proof that the idea
of magic should never be scorned or denied.