I step into the rainbow

The sun at my back while its gentle mists

Drift with the breeze spilling

Iridescent droplets of liquid fire

That cascade through the evening sky

Against the silhouette of rain grey hillsides and the

Spotty radiant patches where

The tiger’s eyes are now focused

Motion, pattern, weakness

I expected a pot of gold

I turn towards the sun

The rainbow has gone

As if it were never there

But it was

As undeniable as the past

I return my back to the sun

As the smoldering liquid quenches the sky

And the tiger from its crouch

Reminds

Copyright 2010 Patrick Granfors