High
above her twirling head
trails a plastic wand,
out of which spills
a chain of spherical rainbows
bobbing and weaving
up ,down,
’round and ’round
as her hair, like a giant paint brush,
swishes the yellow halo of hair
framing her face
where the sun
has kissed the apples
of her cheeks
too many times today.
She stretches
and reaches high,
to re-capture
spent bubbles.
She cannot hold
the rainbows,
drawn away
by ocean winds . . . .
-Joy S. Barefoot
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