Jane Hirshfield’s new poetry collection is a masterful blend of concise language and poignant questioning. Hirshfield pairs together emotions and images that take single moments and open them to realms that are infinite and lingering. I was struck by the way Hirshfield’s words again and again danced the duel of invitation and letting go:
Love in August
White moths against the screen in August darkness.
Some clamor in envy.
Some spread large as two hands of a thief
Who wants to put back in your cupboard the long-taken silver.
Like Mary Oliver, this poetry collection is one you’ll want to have on hand for reading and rereading, always finding something anew.