Double Rainbows.

It wasn't even the end of the day.
Rain was coming or going and rainbows
lit up the sky like bows in a little girl's hair.

I don't want to write about childhood or
motherhood- there's been enough of that.
I want to write about the light.

That lights up her face knowing that every-
thing is as it should be in this moment:
warmth of another being: resting, safe, loved.

I said I didn't want to write about that
but everything comes back to it.
Like rainbows, like sunlight, like safety.

Like what happens when everything collides.