After the rain

Out of the mud marshes of Middle England, 
Rainbows rise wide and down.
At their source, molten silver has pooled
Around mounds of stubborn grass,
Making the brown sludge beautiful 
And white birds, not minding the shallow,
Sit on the sheen, 
Dotting the water under the distanced trees
And tantrum-tired sky.
The spectrum draws eyes over the sodden

Landscape, the leaden background -
But the gulls only look forward 
Resting on the reflected light,
Making fields the sea. 

C. LJ Ireton 2023