Out of the mix of oily black

and molten light

a rainbow rises

each wide band

clear and separate

as strands of colored ribbon.

It arcs across the sky

comes to rest on hilly green.

 

 

Instead of fading

hiding the spot

where the pot of gold lies buried

this one holds its color

slides down a roadside oak

dyes it in paler hues

enters my car, moves closer

rests in the seat beside me.

 

From The Fringes of Hollywood (Jacaranda Press, 2002).

Used with the author’s permission.