They made strange visiting companions –
him and his shaggy-hoofed friend, smuggled in
through the shanty town’s hospice back-door.
The two of them stood by the little boy’s bed
as his small brown hand reached out and stroked
this unlikely creature’s velveteen nose.
Tears stood in Ahmed’s red-rimmed eyes. “His name
is Xavier, son. Do you like him? What do you think?”
Zac, just managed a smile, then drifted back to sleep.
His heart’s desire was to own a zebra. In the grand scheme
of things it wasn’t asking for a lot. All it took, this quest,
was a docile donkey and a spot of black and white paint.
And that all important prayer on the dusty track to town
to ensure, cloudy as it was, it didn’t dare rain. And so
it never did. God sure does move in mysterious ways.