A rainbow appears on a dismal gray day;
Like most things of beauty, it's not here to stay.
A hallmark of nature that's seldom in sight,
Not always around, it's a treasure of light.
It's not in its nature to give us delight
By touching its texture, try as we might.
We need to have senses to see the unseen,
To look at a spirit, its secrets to glean.
With violet, indigo, blue, and some green,
The yellow and orange and red can be seen.
Not taste nor a smell does its brilliance boast,
But our minds still accept this spectral host.
Lit up by a sunbeam, a gossamer ghost,
It's nothing but water, just vapor at most.
Those millions of billions of bubbles of dew,
It's sad that their grandeur enlightens so few.
Refractions of sunlight, sensed through the eyes,
Make magical moments in clearing blue skies.
They brighten the day before starting to stray,
And bring forth new hope before fading away
by Gaines Fox, 2003
