Journey
We are watchmen for your
safe passage;
pacing at the harbor,
readying for unloading,
the bustle, the clatter
exclamation, reunion.
but for now, we, watchmen
wait impatient
knitting together
our nets, our brows, our families,
passersby.
coming or going?
they ask, and we
smile. staying,
continuing, watching,
ever hoping, ever vigilant,
until, with wind’s last push
tomorrow, or tomorrow, or tomorrow,
you arrive, joyous, home.
Together we will be watchmen
pacing the shoreline
for that other Coming,
and prepare our nets for harvest
Heather is progressing in her fight against Lyme disease, which has tried unsuccessfully to quench her innumerably allotted word quota. She lives in the South with her long-suffering husband, Noah, their two excessively bouncy children, and two cats—one named after an ancient epic poem, the other after a Transformer. Guess which one the five-year-old named?
