Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach;
but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus
How often in my labors,
the must and the can’t and the so what of it,
does the Changed One appear,
glory of heaven crammed into the ill-fitting
costume of a passer-by,
and I fail to see?
I’ve read poems like this, so I know—
I look and think,
“No, not that one.”
And my nets remain empty.
open my eyes
—April 29, 2019