Iris, draped in silk the color of a sun-warmed plum, stretched her toes through the cool grass of the high mountain meadow. A recently vanished storm hung in the air, the scent of petrichor and ozone clinging to everything. This was her favorite after-work lounge.

With a lazy flick of her wrist, she coaxed the last lingering moisture from a cloud, weaving it into a small, private rainbow. It arched over her like a feline, shimmering. She plucked a dewdrop from a clover leaf and flicked it. The droplet slid down the rainbow’s curve, scattering micro-prisms of light across her cheek.

A sparrow, its feathers still damp, hopped onto her knee. Message for you, Lady? it chirped.

Iris smiled, offering a finger. Hush. The only message today is from the earth to the sky, and it says: ‘Rest.’

She leaned back, the rainbow settling over her shoulders like a shawl, and watched the valley below steam gently in the new sun.