Too bright the sunshine, this broken morning,
glistening over the petalled surface-
too blue. Back to the original fish-hunt;
bitter now the iron-core call returns empty.

Still, in the warm dawn, an echo calls-
smelling of mackrel, a sudden salty sting:
the remembrance of suppers and sacrifice
distant miracles and brothers.
And then, raw, glorious recognition -
a rush back to shore to find the
crackle of salted skin crisping.
Filled with sweet and salty flesh,
a sudden eating to savour the saviour-
heart full and satisfied.
Hunger finally abated and, for Peter,
a new tasting, deeper and fuller
down to his fishy core,
tasting melt-in-the-mouth forgiveness
and acceptance, solid as a rock.