It plants one shimmering foot on the slope of Mount Sally, the other in the high meadow. As the rainbow arches its transparent back, and the willow is my witness, something marks me. From my green chair among strawberries I hear the Kickapoo River agree I must serve now. I snap a stem and bring it to my mouth, the berry barely aware of leaving home. I sit into nightfall.
Promise becomes invisible.
Demure fireflies flirt. One vaults to kiss a falling star. I smell the tender moon. Birthday plans must be surrendered to unplanned unfolding, flawless. Botched, I thought before the rainbow inscribed my being.