ADMIRATION

 

We park by the lagoon to eat 

the lunch she had made us.

We crack the lids of our containers

and admire her handiwork in the glassware:

quinoa, tofu, and a mouthwatering array

of diced peppers. Reds, yellows, and oranges.

We look up: the windshield

(more glassware) is rain-drenched.

Our admiration obscured the sudden downpour.

The distant hillside, a swatch of light.

The raincloud, a passage overhead.

Hurry, she says, throwing the car door open,

on her feet, heading toward the water,

any second now we should see it.

Just then: a rainbow.

 

***

 

A day later 

we round the same lagoon

on our way further north.

Look, I say, how the water is so blue and yet

closer in it is aquamarine.

Sunshine, she says. Sunshine.

Just then: a rainbow. 

I am a prism, warmed

and lit by her light.