Yesterday, I almost called to ask if you’d seen our town’s rainbow yet.
Disregarding either answer entirely, I would have explained each of it’s colors with as much detail as a snowflake under inspection, or maybe the palm of an aged hand.
As though we were on opposite ends of the world’s spectrum and it was not possible to step outside to see for yourself.
Instead, I took an unsteady picture which carried with it much artificiality.
For it made it look as if it was discharging itself directly out of God’s illuminating pillow; fading carefully the farther it toured the sky.
Speedily the rain had begun again and each raindrop reflected a different color thereupon dripping like paint descending from my windshield and ultimately washing the idea away.