Deeper Truth

When the evening rains came, predictably, cooling off the remains of a stubborn summer, he waited for the end of the storm. Invariably, with the setting sun at his back, the sky to the east would shimmer with a bright rainbow, ignited by shafts of light as the local star shifted below the level of the dark cumulus clouds. A matter of physics and optics, he knew, with the remnants of water still suspended in the atmosphere reflecting the light of the sun, separating it into its component parts. But there was a deeper truth he knew as well, that she lived in the east, under that rainbow, and that it was her light that ignited the splendid arc in his heart as surely as the rainbow graced the arc of the sky.