My parents used to fish On Castle Creek With canvas vests and wicker creels. They always caught their limit. And we had fresh trout for breakfast. Last year I drove my father Up Castle Creek, Alone and with knees too old For clambering on wet rocks. We stopped and talked To a fisherman With nylon gear and neoprene boots. My father told him where the fish were. Then I drove him home, Down castle creek, For the last time.