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It was the angle of the sun stooped
to peek through a keyhole in clouds.
Weeks of rain and floods and January fog
— and now this rainbow, a full-sky arc
brighter than we'd ever seen.
Red bled into purple blue and all
the rain-run spectrum.

Its near end skimmed a hilltop house
which held. The end of rainbow
slid down the hill and jumped
the creek. How high the water!
brown with upstream soil
roiling down, making new gullies.

The rainbow shot up the hill
ahead of us, glistening wet pavement.
It skipped the ditch and slithered
past a fenceline.

We were almost there
when it touched down to earth —
the red-clay pot of gold,
the richest, firmest thing
we're trying, after flood,
to hold.

      — Taylor Graham