Rainbow.

The ground pushes the roots upwards towards the sky,
hoping that rain will come.
The soil gets loosened as the roots rise and the sun shines,
 but rain never comes.
So he hopes with fragile hope in is heart and a spirit-filled mind,
and dreads the outcome he will find,
Sunny all week, with no chance of rain.

Puncturing the ground with his fists, trying to make sense of all this,
he picks up a shovel and digs.
With dirt on his hands and fear in his heart,
he lunges forward to try to get back to the start.
He carries more than some gallons of despair
to the hole he just dug with his broke, barren bones.

Filling the hole with his tears, while his prayers eject like some nervous heartbeats,
and his legs swallow the earth below him, the dark, stirring waters start rising.
With love in his heart for his babies and the feeling of not a better tomorrow,
he dove right in and swam toward the sky.

The sun shone down upon the stricken ground,
while the sky shed it's rain and the wind whimpered a soft tune,
a promise came in a rainbow.
I ran to the end to see if there was gold,
 but instead I saw a waterless, sunless bed of rooted roses that had no mold.