The trees along the line are stark-cut as hours
Black branched on the bright of a setting sky,
they bite –
I have read Whyman’s poetry before, so went in expecting clear cut imagery, strong lines embedded in nature. I’m not going to be disappointed.
Silken cobwebs, fairy tresses, dreams…
Diaphanous skeletons of the summer
That slips so quickly
Away.
There is a whimsical edge to this collection that I did not see before, but it could be something I missed. It reminds me a lot of walking along the Thames as a child, looking for the fairies that my grandmother promised me were there. It’s nature, it’s what you see, but there is also more. Still yourself, and look.
Stuck in traffic –
Tin cans on pause
While ether people
Chatter in studio cheeriness –
A soundtrack to the waiting.
There is also more than just nature: I really enjoy the inner voice of this poet, their ability to dissect our everyday life and show it as it is, more than it is, and also less than it. It’s a keen talent.
Then oak leaves fall
Like butterflies
To rest on upturned fields
Where the bones of Summer’s crop
Scatter pale and wear away.
The imagery is scant and clean: I love this as we don’t always need more, we don’t need to tether ourselves in so much metaphor that the idea is washed clean away. The spareness of Whyman’s verse lets us see the real beauty of what they see, and what is on the page.
Ice Moon, Witch Moon (do you see a pattern?) Traffic and Copper Dawn were particular favourites for me. But this entire collection is good, beautifully put together, flowing effortlessly into the next. It is almost as good as diving into the forest for yourself and allowing yourself to breathe.
I recommend and award 5 stars.
