The rainbow came out while my back was toward it.
Actually, by the time I reached the edge of the bay, the tide limiting our onward path, and turned back towards where the rainbow had been, it was gone.
Fortunately there was dog poop. As I turned from picking up after Charlie, I saw the rainbow.
It seemed, in that moment, so true. That the rainbow comes out while our back is turned.
I thought about what to write.
There might be a poem, if there wasn’t an essay due tomorrow. Some finely crafted piece of writing, if I didn’t need to hastily garden before the green waste collection service comes in the morning. I would work that metaphor for its truth about walking down the beach in a bad mood, or about the graces I don’t or won’t see… Or something.
But there is an essay due tomorrow (and it isn’t finished yet).
And the garden does need weeding and the bathrooms need cleaning. And the dinner needs making. And that essay, even when it has all the words and ideas it needs, will need editing.
So let it simply be said: the rainbow came out while my back was turned.
Also: thank goodness for dog’s doing their business.