All those years, she had shown up at the well
not knowing the pitcher on her shoulder
one day would meet the test; no way to tell
the weary stranger—who bowed and told her
he was thirsty—had prayed to Jehovah
to send him Isaac’s future wife. No way
to reason her sudden running over
to feed him water, or what made her say,
“I’ll give your camels drink.” She felt his stare
as the animals licked her gentle hand.
Then, before she knew it, he’d moved with care,
clipping a gold ring to her ear, two bands
of heavy gold around her wrist. Above,
early stars broke through clouds: a sign of love.
Roger Armbrust
February 4, 2001
