I had not thought much about doing another book. Nothing against a new book, I just hadn’t thought about it. After my oldest and dearest friend died, though, I took stock, as one will do when he reconciles with loss. Among the stock was a cache of many more published poems that I had remembered writing. Because many of the poems are elegiac, much of the book is a view from below, but that is to be regarded, I hope, as uplifting-any direction one takes being a direction. And taken. Besides, the water is clear.