The forecast will not diminish me today
when a rainbow in November in rural Vermont
unexpectedly brightened my path
like a cloud burst
without an umbrella.
In my most innocent mind
I expected a rainbow
and maybe a unicorn,
as unlikely or ghastly
as that might have been.
The imagination
can be a predator
with few assurances
or persuasion
of permanence.
A cursory glance
at less than a cartwheel
of excitement
wounds me today
when a rainbow might usually break probation
and allow joy to break out on the streets
like a riot of color and so much
cartwheeling light.
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