At the confluence of the Delaware
and the Little Delaware I fished
without result.
I cast my lure time
after time into the
tumult.
My friend threw flies. I
threw a Phoebe, until
evening called a halt.
We talked about Nothing:
Zen and Gorgias.
The darkness dwelt.
The bats fluttered. The
stars poked thru a vast
fabric like a quilt.
—Kirby Olson
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
A Classical Insurgency
Why learn Latin? And by what means? Many professional classicists have no convincing answer to either question.…
Leave Joy Alone
C S. Lewis has never been my favorite Christian writer. I admit this sheepishly, given his stature.…
Why Homeschool?
My father used to quiz us at the kitchen table, my older brother and me, during dinner.…
