The Life of a Young Rainbow

The rainbow was born after a long, dreary rain. Yes, there were still clouds, but the rainbow thought they looked pretty against the blue sky. The rainbow looked down at the ground and saw how the dew glittered and the streams flowing into the gutters looked so busy against the quiet streets. The birds, it noticed, were all flying out from the dripping trees, excited by the promise of fresh food and the opportunity to stretch out their claustrophobic wings. They sang as they flew. The rainbow saw all of this and reached its prismatic arms down to greet its true worshippers: the worms. For the rainbow knew that, like the blind earthworms lost on the pavement, it too would die as soon as the rain had dried from the ground.


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Filed under Flash Fiction, Session VII

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