The Zebedee Files

1.

A few soothing notes
Disturb the oars
Unfolding nets
Boats overturning to
The music of the morning

The early rays soften
Already soft greys
Overlaid with dawn fire
Woodpigeons - such
Unspectacular greeters

Moving three fishermen
Bed to bread to boat
Skins leather-tanned
The hue of hull timbers
Slatted and daubed

Against the Galilean
Storms. One stands,
Eyes closed, breathing in
The air, his habit; his heart
An ear, listening

Waiting for news; of a
Heavenly music beyond
The liturgical score; his
Synagogue stacked with
Dry wood, but no fire

Rumours from the Jordan.
New notes. Whispers of
A conflagration to come;
That’s all it took
To pull two sons away

From the boats, from a
Father who freely
Gave his only sons into
A baptism of fire to ignite
The dry ones of Israel

His sunset-soft grey hair
Now overlain with
Heavenly flames
His heart, an orchestra:
Zebedee, by name