Nick reads the Alphabyte.

None was better than Dad at casting a four-ounce weight into the sea,
    sinking and searching for a catch.
Before I got the knack, the knot came—huge …endless…
    making the smoothly spinning reel an inert mass of mess,
    slowly to be unwound, unpuzzled so that the flow could happen again.
Like a faithful pet, Dad’s pole would patiently wait beside him,
    as he turned his eyes from the preferred outward, seaward,
    longing look, to the close search for the answer, so I could cast again.

Backlashes, they’re called—life spinning too fast
    for gentle control and directing movement.
Look at the spool of life with its minutes and hours that unroll for you.
How does it feel—this reel?
Wait…watch…letting your Father take your life into his lap, teaching you
    how to unravel the knots, so you can cast out into the deep again.