In a terrible mood on Friday afternoon, I’m driving too fast through town when I round a corner and see a rainbow spread over Hardwick.
The arc shines so brilliantly and near I imagine I can reach out and touch its particularly vibrant green. I pull into the Village Market, and a woman I know gets out of her car, wearing a mask, too. For a moment we stand there, marveling, then walk towards the market door.
Another woman — vaguely familiar to me, in the way of small town Vermont — is loading her car with groceries. My companion and I urge her to go see the rainbow; it’s just a few steps around the building.
She shakes her head, saying she can’t see it.
But we insist and walk those few steps with her. The rainbow by then has morphed into a double arc. Then, as we watch, the rainbow fades.
Over her mask, the woman looks at us and says, “Well, that’s a nice thing after all today. Something good.”
October 5. So much more winter to come. Watch for rainbows.
It was the Rainbow gave thee birth,
And left thee all her lovely hues;
“The Kingfisher” by William Henry Davies
