Monaco Parkway.

Southbound on a glorious April afternoon.

Rocky Mountains on my right glow a bright luminescent yellow.

Causing the archway of hundred year old trees to reveal all their branches like hundred year old bones buried in the sky.

Green Spring, sprouts generously all around. On lawns of majestic brick, stucco, wooden, themed-and-over-sized homes. In the landscaped flower beds so full of bulbs, the blossoms will soon contend for growing space.

All along the thirty foot wide median, the trees expand with the light. Pushing the undergrowth into a sacred city forest. Separating opposite flows of traffic in the most beautiful way possible.

It has been raining.

And the black pavement is slicked with the purple scent of hope.

Washing away the tired brown of winter, the patches of dry dirt ooze chocolate.

The April air is still chilly, but the water is warm and steam seems to come from the plants that have had such a pleasant awakening.

Storm clouds are on my left.

Eastern skies swollen with blues that reach into my soul. Towering above the world like giants, they loom. Ready to burst.

They fill the air with their scent of re-birth. The promise of relief. The power of release.  Their majesty matches the Rockies with contempt.

Speed limit 30.

The sun pierces its way into the clouds. Across the city, so full of noise.

Into the trees and buildings. Allowing the peace that only comes from splashing tires, and breathtaking scenery.

Pot holes are irrelevant.

Only crumbled concrete. Sand and water, returned back to their rightful being. Particles washed down gutters.

Solid no more.

The reds and violets define themselves as forgotten hues of spring and reclaim this afternoon with all their silent glory.

It is rainbow weather.

And I search the sky. To my left and to my right. Looking for any hint of the prismic wonder. And I am put off its absence.

Surely it will appear.

And as I splash my way to a red-light halt. I turn around in my seat, craning my neck, for the rainbow that is most surely playing peek-a-boo.

I see none.

Stepping on the gas, the rain seems less wonderful now.

And I look up to the heavens. Wondering if a tornado will appear instead…

And then,

It hits me…

That this stormy weather, this holy sunshine that clashes above me so brilliantly…

Has produced a rainbow somewhere. And I don’t need to see it with my eyes, to feel it in my heart.

It exists splendidly without my knowledge.

I take a right and then a left. Pull into my parking lot.

And I park with a sigh.

My daughter has fallen asleep in the backseat. Her lips red and lined white with donut powder. Her chestnut hair gleaming golden in the sunlight.

Eyelashes as black as it’s made, rest¬† softly on her sunrise colored flesh.

Her cheeks are flushed rosy with sleep…

And suddenly,

I am indebted to rainbows everywhere.

Especially the one,

In my backseat.