On the hottest day that summer, a rainbow

Arced over the clock-tower of the brick pile

We call The Rotunda, a dying shopping mall

With a wilting grocery, a druggist, a flower stall,

A dozen half-lit vacant retail stores

And a crafts gallery. I had just bought

A jewel box, the lid a parquet braid

Of spruce and rosewood artfully inlaid,

With a comb of music teeth to play a tune

For one who might never open it to listen.

There is a clear-cut purity in the gift

Purchased with love that may not be returned.

I walked out into twilight holding the treasure

The clerk had gift-wrapped in white paper

And bound with ribbons, silver and turquoise

All cunningly curled. Then I looked up

And saw the rainbow against the violet sky

Late in the rainless day, bold and unbidden.

No gold anchors the generous bridge of heaven.