Another night stretched long

trying,

  trying,

     trying–

until finally morning drifted in–

cool and bleak–

as empty as their nets in the water. 

…

Another command to cast again to

fatigue,

  hunger,

    failure–

words that echoed fantasy–

 trite and senseless–

to experienced fishermen. 

…

But, once more, they let their nets

down

  down

    down

into the taunting waves–

  as dark and murky

as their prospects. 

…

And then the fish came again–

swimming, 

  swarming,

    swelling–

but only at His word.  And like their nets–

broken and filled–

they feasted with the Living Bread.