Refraction
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Upon the sore surface
Of a purple-black bruised cloud,
Like a shard of glass, there shone
A brilliant sheaf of color.
I beckoned: “A rainbow!”
Another came and in the languor
Stared in admiration.
Intense, the color stayed on undulating clouds
While 'cross it lightning played.
But as it faded, the other
Was not content to stand in silence.
Why must such moments be contaminated
By human speech?
"But now abide. . ."
For Signs & Seasons
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