Uncle Rhetorical

It’s raining. It’s pouring. And the old man Is out of bed. It’s 4:15 A.M. —Old, etiolated, left so un-majestic… (But not snoring, no.) * It is raining, though, rain that Thomas Merton[i] Once described as a festival, though he Was up late himself that night, in a dark Wood, a Coleman lantern to shedContinue reading “Uncle Rhetorical”