In Peter’s dreams
the cock still crowed.
He returned to Galilee
to throw nets into the sea
and watch them sink
like memories into darkness.
He did not curse the sun
that rolled down his back
or the wind that drove
the fish beyond his nets.
He only waited for the morning
when the shore mist would lift
and from his boat he would see him.
Then after a naked and impetuous swim
with the sea running from his eyes
he would find a cook
with holes in his hands
and stooped over dawn coals
who would offer him the Kingdom of God
for breakfast.
Lovely. Thank you.
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