I couldn’t find the rainbow, didn’t even see the sun.
But the rain had stopped.
For weeks now, hour after hour, day after day, it had come.
Sometimes it poured, drenching those unfortunate enough
to find themselves without cover, engulfing us with wet misery.
Other days it only sprinkled, but the incessant, unflagging drizzle brought a wave of frigid coldness that never left.
And now, after weeks of this endless deluge,
suddenly, without any reason at all, it stopped.

To anyone who looked upon us, it would have seemed the rain had never ceased.
For the streets were still filled with muddy waters,
large puddles in every corner.
And daily the children stomped through town with raincoats and heavy boots, spattering through pools of water and spraying everyone near with dripping grime.
The doorways were still jammed with men and women pushing open their umbrellas, before they stepped into the cool air,
in fear the rain might start again.
But worse still were the multitude that never took the chance to find out,
for they had stayed hidden inside,
never venturing to even peek through closed curtains,
in order to avoid altogether
the despondency the rain had summoned.

Standing on the grassy hill that overlooked our town,
I wiggled my bare toes in the damp meadow.
I alone knew the rain had stopped.
As I looked down upon the plaintive people,
disguised under dark raincoats and heavy umbrellas,
bustling through town in a hurry to escape their imagined flood,
I sent up a quiet prayer that one day, they would look up from their busy lives and see the sky was no longer dark.
For when I turned from the engrossed town, I raised my blinking eyes to the sky,
And there set high for anyone to see, I found my rainbow.