Scattered stuffed animals and toys; the echoes of home in an empty chest–our sanctuary: fort, wagon, and ship. On the floor, the jetsam of old Tonka trucks, planes, and plastic soldiers. Three boys revel in make-believe. Cowboys riding dinosaurs or pirates: no captains, three scalawags. A voice cold as a northern storm thunders, “lunchtime, wash your hands.” The middle of the hallway is a stream so clear you can see rainbow trout rising to the shadows of mayflies as we run along its banks against the walls of the canyon. The hawk at the bathroom door is vigilant. She circles us knowing it is time for sandwiches and naps.

After years of writing scientific reports, Scott Hicks was introduced to writing poetry through mindful writing workshops as a therapeutic tool. Since then, his poetry has been published in The Road Not Taken, Contemporary Haibun Online, Haibun Today, Sandpiper, Poetry Quarterly, Modern Haiku, and others.

Photo by Markus Spiske

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