Gathering Fish

The September sun beats down like lashes,
licking and lapping his flesh.
No preparation of lemon and garlic. 
Not even olive oil's blessing.

The seven year boy cups his little hands,
gathering water from the sea,
and kindly pours it over the fishes' gills,
suffocating on air
trying to breathe.
The little boy, tender,
baptizes them,
with salty water of the sea, 
saving them from instant death.
He leans down 
and kisses them,
giving them thanks,
understanding. 
He is a fisherman's son.

They are being gathered 
together,
in huge baskets to feed the multitudes.
People are angry and impatient 
from waiting. 
 They are always hungry.

But for this minute,
this little boy is a different disciple,
helping the fish first,
quieting them,
singing them a hymn, 
so they too can drink in

life.