Rainbow

We felled the tree with the clearest reasons: leaves
(too near the house) made glare, choked gutters (lawn
wouldn’t grow under it). When the base sprouted bush
we stripped that also down.

Then for a long time, nothing. The former umbrella
was a rock of convenient height, flat table-topped
for resting drinks or garden tools. Stumps are useful
thus for years till they rot.

Today I have seen it: a half-uncurled little hand
pushed out to clutch the air in renewed struggle,
tenderly green. This time I’ve given up:
I too have breathing-trouble.

So, a clay tablet reports, the gods relented
when the ark swam near heaven to come aground,
and love-queen Ishtar loudest of all lamented
{being herself half-drowned!}


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