The word, still, like life itself, is pregnant with possibility. On one end of the spectrum, it is the ultimate stillness of death; on the other, it is generational: still, life continues. The word still became for the author a synonym for the journey, with all of us riding in separate boats while traveling through the same body of water. In these poems we can acknowledge hard truths, the struggle that comes with change, knowing we are not alone. We can find solace and joy in nature, see how art and music can move us beyond ourselves, and be comforted by how we are all inextricably entwined. Along with disappointments, loss, and the unexpected, there is still love and abundance, choice, and room for praise.