Cars raced by. I was dawdling, distracted by Caleb’s unease in the backseat as we traveled home from Children’s Hospital. The doctor had listened but offered us nothing to fix the anxiety that compelled him to pummel himself and scream. We had nothing either. So I prayed
I need three herons
An odd fleece to promise hope
Yet God sent seven
And scores in the years since. Now when the hitting and screaming has resumed and we still have nothing to fix it, a heron sighting seems to contain all the stars in the heavens and all the grains of sand on the shore, a strong witness for continuing the journey, like Abraham, living in hope of what we do not yet possess.
© 2016 – Laurel Archer
Photo Credit: Laurel Archer
Poetry form: Haibun, Laurel Archer