More poetry

A rising rainbow in the sky,
A golden bird on his wings he flies,
A pot of gold clutched in his claws,
The sky turns to thunder that grumbles and roars,
The bird drops the pot into his nest,
And lies down to take a rest,
The thunder knocks the pot to the ground,
The rainbow's gold is safe and sound,
It's hidden in between the grass,
Out of harm's grasp.

By Eden Penfold