For photos in the gold
Straw grass of late summer,
Sunset on the mesa.
Once the magic hour’s past,
They tromp back to their car
With their photographer
Who declares that she’s glad
The sun came out before
They load up and drive off.
They’re hardly down the road
When a twitch of lightning
Jumping above a peak
Superimposes against
A sudden, truncated
Stump of sunset rainbow.
