13 September – Chasing rainbows

All is murk, mizzle and gust
but glinting among the drear rain dust,
a perfect arc of colour suspends.
And though it’s a bleary morning,
I feel tinted promise dawning,
long to pass under it into more.
But as I advance it retreats
then swiftly dissolves and depletes,
leaving only dampened desire behind.
Then just as I fear all is rain,
stripes of light re-appear again
just a little way on, up the valley.
I would rather chase rainbows all day
than accept the world as painted grey,
so I walk on to the next arching hope.