Sometimes the rainbow’s right there, its variegated hues blended and bowed overhead, utterly untouchable, while giving the illusion of being merely out of reach.
“Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp,/Or what’s a heaven for?”
Not infrequently, a splash of rainbow appears, then quickly fades away.
More often, following a winter of endless waves of white, my daily rambles now take me past the bits and pieces of never-ending rainbows, there for the taking.
Love in the Spaces 