Rainbow

Whispers of mist lie deathly white, shifting in the early morning light; the night jar pipes his haunting tune, so soon to rue the waning of the moon. The sun shines brightly now, and rain showers scatter o'er the rough terrain. God's feather'd creatures start to sing, the songbirds warble out their greeting. But now a gift far sweeter for the telling, a soft array of colors gently swelling; seven hues with radiant splendor fair o'erarching all do clearly shimmer there. O limpid arc of light, fleeting and brief! you bring joy as we behold you, every leaf and bough and field and mountain glen exults to taste your beauty once again!