Gennesaret

by Mary Lynn Bahr

They come to fish here every year

In mid-November when the lake

Savors the westing sun.

The beach has learned to wait for them

At sunset when the palm leaves sharpen

Stark against the molten sky.

Every year the same men come,

Three men who walk with covered heads

Together on the shore

And cast their nets into the sun,

While gilded waves break gold

Against their feet.

Photograph by Nancy Olsen

by Photograph by Cherilyn Ann Walley

Art by Brett Rawlins