it's not my rainbow

i see a rainbow this morning

but it's not my rainbow

a billion clear drops or water
sunlight diffusing through them
white light jarred into a wild spectrum
into colors of hope
some type of reassurance
of consolation

it belongs to someone else
possibly for the driver beside me
or the whole clump of cars ahead of me
but they don't see it, heads down, distracted
this immense expanse of ripe color
it's might be theirs, but they don't see it
because they don't look up

i see the rainbow

still, i can't reach it or get near it
it will simply move father away
or worse, disappear, leaving just rain
it only exists right now
at this distance
at this time

it isn't a promise made to me
this morning, for this situation
i can't claim it for my own
can't hold on to it
can't own it or wear it as a symbol
promising that something will happen
or never happen ever again

it's not my rainbow
it's for someone else

i'm just eavesdropping
and know He still speaks