Rainbow at Sunrise for Dad’s Birthday

At sunrise on what would have been my dad’s 94^th birthday, I saw a rainbow over Coos Bay. One normally thinks of rainbow as bright, lithe, curving. Not this rainbow. It was blunted, fat and misshapen, which made it right at home in Coos Bay.

Elmer and I stood on the bay beach, the water a sheen of orange and purple, when the rainbow materialized like out of a corny magic show. The tide was rippling in, making soft sounds. Three pelicans, mostly white, put in an appearance. They were the first of their species I’d seen on Coos Bay and had no reason to be there this time of year.

I had never seen a rainbow at sunrise, Has anyone? I’d never read of such a phenomenon in poetry or prose. Do they actually exist and especially when no rain whatsoever had fallen when Elmer and I walked the mile from our home to the beach. So not only was the rainbow weirdly formed, it shouldn’t have even existed at all.

No, I didn’t take a picture of it with my phone. I never carry the phone on our morning walks.

As more light rose from the east, the rainbow began to fade into the horizon.

What was this all about?