The strength of Tim Hunt’s nature poems drew me into this book. His observation of light, rocks, a hawk and a field mouse in ‘High Desert Summer, ’ a California landscape, is so intense that he seems to long to become part of it. Then come the poems honoring and loving his family, whose history is made up of men and women ‘getting by, ’ ‘learning to make do, ’ acquiring ‘that tricky pride of the poor–the failing that is success.’ Here is a poet standing on the threshold of existence, acutely aware of the humans, both living and dead, existing in the rooms behind him, but wanting, ‘other times, ’ the consolation of nature. His ambivalence is a strength and enrichment, not only for him, but for his fortunate readers–Judith Hemschemeyer.