When the Rain Ends

August 10, 1994

The sunlight burns through the haze.

And you walk out into the field

with the child of your dreams.

His skin smells of rain;

his laughter hangs in the air.

And you smile

in spite of yourself,

and swing him up into your arms

to embrace his joy,

only to find

it belongs to him. So

you can't have everything.

So what? He points out

the rainbow in the mist.

You'd miss it otherwise

with your eyes

turned inward.