A Prism on the Moss Brick

I pushed through the low wooden slat door of the town greenhouse, drawn by the humid scent of damp earth and fern fronds. On a tiered potting bench, someone had set a beveled glass propagation vial beside a terracotta saucer. Stepping close on quiet hooves, I nudged the heavy cut glass just enough to turn its sharp facet into the low morning beam pouring through the glass ceiling. Instantly, an arched rainbow spread across an old moss-covered brick beneath it. The violet and gold bands rested softly over the green velvet surface, making every minute spore glow like a tiny, colorful lantern.