The poems in The Open Hand journey across the upper Rhine and Alps to contemporary West Jerusalem and far northern Europe, asking, Where does the joy come from? Whether addressing the accusation of a libelous chain of causation in medieval legend, a moment in an alley with a Syrian refugee, foxes in the Tiergarten, or a Paris side street where the disciple of a charismatic rabbi celebrates the graven acts God forbade, these poems return us always to earthbound pleasures, stepping toward us to say, after many rehearsals, stay, enjoy.