Because you asked:
At The End of The Rainbow (for JaeRose)
Honey, you returned the photo:
rainbow stretched across steel-blue sky,
digging itself into rocky ridge
burnished bright gold by setting sun.
For years we chased down back country roads:
blacktopped, graveled, interstate highways
stretched between Wisconsin and Montana
(we always did take the long way home).
When you first lived in my home,
you chased down a June bug
drawn by light from living room lamp.
Large strong hands carried it outside,
Remember that long ago evening,
after capturing end of rainbow, greedy,
we thought also to grab the sunset.
You were driving when antelope raced
across roadway, its eyes startled
to round whiteness as you maneuvered
around death for all three of us.
Yesterday, large strong hands broke through
locked back door, trying to take by force
what had always been freely given.
Antelope eyes stare from my mirror.
Can hear creak of broken back door
unwillingly chased by Autumn winds,
far too late in the year to tempt
light seeking June bugs.
Elizabeth Crawford 3/18/14
Originally published in chapbook titled Splitting Darkness…1999