Underneath the rainbow

Somewhere in the mountains, fair

Mist still lingers in the air

After days and days of endless rain

The golden hills turn shamrock green

In the ground lay sleeping seeds

For flower-covered hills just shy of spring

Underneath the rainbow

You’ll find a little lake…

or perhaps, a large pond

Holding on to raindrops

Tapping out their song

Floating on the surface are four sad swans

When the church bell rings

They’ll reunite with kings and queens

Beneath the calming waves

Bridgit will awake

Her miracles fill the well, and her sadness fills the lake

Underneath the rainbow

In the only forest left, they hide

Peeking from behind

Moss-covered trunks of every yew

With glistening drops of dew

The little people watch

They spy, they scheme, and they play mischievous games

If you outwit them without bringing shame

You may gain a clever, cunning friend

Underneath the rainbow, without a moving end.

This was written by our contributing writer, Karina Coghlan.