A Fine-strummed Tune for Ichabod Leaver

An old man on a park bench, well-dressed in a brown, tweed suit, was thinking about a lifetime ago to a violin playing while Rome burned to soot. He’s not much of a seer, but I can tell you this: “He opposes all believers with a wicked and serpentine hiss.” His lack of conviction and … Continue reading A Fine-strummed Tune for Ichabod Leaver