The Heron's Nest

Editors' Choices

The Heron's Nest Award

People will hear the familiar call—dinnertime! —when they read this haiku. Our senses are immediately engaged; hunger kicks in as we wonder what's for dinner tonight. How many times have we been called or called others to dinner? To a hungry child, 'dinnertime' sounds blissful. To a child who isn't hungry or considers playing more important than eating, it likely sounds dreadful. Hooven's haiku begins with one word, albeit a compound word. 'Dinnertime' is a permanent compound word that, according to Merriam Webster, indicates it has been used so often it is a permanent part of the English language. We can all agree that 'dinnertime' is also a word with complex associations, and one that provides a marvelous beginning to a haiku with the theme of childhood.

By using simple, everyday language, and with sensitive accuracy, Hooven completes the picture of a common summer scene. Almost. There is not a pair of sandals under the swing or a hint that the second sandal or child is nearby; there is only one sandal. The missing pieces add intrigue, mystery, and room to wonder. Finding one of a pair elicits curiosity. One earring on the sidewalk, one sock in the dryer, one mitten in a snowbank. What is its story? (Sometimes, there is even an urge to reunite an object with its mate.) A Canada goose who has lost its mate will never choose another. A parent who has been separated from their child will not rest. Does the single sandal create an emotional response in you as it does in me?

I have reunited countless shoes, socks, sandals, and mittens with their mates in my role as an early childhood educator. It matters to children that adults care about their belongings enough to notice one of a pair is missing. When the poet notices one sandal resting under a swing, he subtly asks the question, "Where is the other one?" Perhaps there was a sudden departure from the swing set toward or away from the kitchen when dinnertime was announced. Or as often happens with children, one discovery or rich fantasy leads to another, and the sandal is forgotten. 'One sandal under the swing' might well be a motto for childhood. With a thirst for new horizons children often move spontaneously through the day. They drop what they are doing, leave their belongings behind, and heedlessly charge toward the next fun thing. While swinging was great, now there is a creek to wade in or a pigeon to chase through the park.

Most of the words in this haiku describe one of something. One swing, one sandal, one dinnertime. I find this haiku to be a positive reminder of the wholeness of life despite the illusion of separateness—species, continents, climates, religions, races, identities, politics, families. Although there is one sandal in this scene, we know its mate is not far away, possibly just outside of the haiku's picture frame. Whether a romanticized thought or a factual statement, children appear to experience oneness with the world. I have seen evidence of this in my career and my mothering. To illustrate this sense of oneness, I chose a few special declarations my daughters and students have made over the years.

I feel like I'm being covered by a blanket of stars.
What do you think about a 75-year-old tree that still has fresh leaves?
An angel is inside this song.
When the lighthouse blinks it lights up the morning.
The sun will eat the apple.
Where there's a wind there's a way.
Maybe the lightning bugs are having a party.
Every night before bed I love everyone in the whole world.

Frank Hooven's remarkable haiku helps me appreciate ways children experience life, and how I experienced life as a child. I hope the same is true for you.

Anne Elise Burgevin
September 2022