Chase The Lost Rainbow

Chase The Lost Rainbow
© Surazeus
2018 12 10

Narrow black roads winding among green woods
provide solid surface over thick mud
for frail cars of metal and glass that glide
glowing gold through torrents of hungry rain.

Nowhere in this country of boundless space
over prairies, mountains, deserts, and plains,
have I ever felt at home in one town,
always moving on to chase the lost rainbow.

My ancestors have lived in America
almost four hundred years since they arrived,
sailing over wild seas in fragile ships
to escape religious wars in Europe.

Since they built homes in Massachusetts woods
they have never lived in one single town
more than one generation, birth to death,
always moving on to chase the lost rainbow.

Their children would move west across the land,
loading their hopes and dreams in covered wagons,
then walking west into the wilderness
to find the Promised Land of old church hymns.

I have traveled far from land of my birth,
moving to distant towns every few years
to study or work among new strange friends,
always moving on to chase the lost rainbow.

I may live in one town where I may stop
and imagine that I make it my home,
but circumstances change as the world turns,
so I drive away to some other town.

Will the trees weep for me in the black rain
when I drive my car down the winding road,
searching for some Promised Land I invent,
always moving on to chase the lost rainbow?