Disciples at Gennesaret

By Lynette K. Allen

First Place

Late in the day, the wind comes down

And wails across the Sea of Galilee.

Lashing grasses on the hills,

It lunges past the rocks

And slashes,

Wave from wave,

Into a churning deep.

Men have been known to perish

In these evening storms;

But some,

While sinking in the perilous depths,

Have reached,

And lived.

Those who know of fishing

Pull their nets and wait

Until the waters heal—

Until the wind falls off,

Sighing out across the desert,

Searching for the soothing Voice.