David Budbill’s poems are deceptively simple and filled with light and longing. In this, his last book, he confronts the painful realities of aging, with both joy and mortality interweaving his sparse and brisk poems. Eschewing platitudes and easy answers, Budbill achieves a dynamic and delicate balance between deepening winter and filling out the seed-catalog order for the next garden.
“Budbill both informs and moves. He is, in short, a delight and a comfort.” —Wendell Berry
“David Budbill is a no-nonsense, free-range sage.” —Dana Jennings, New York Times
“Looking at the reality closely, he sees parts move in a unison—sometimes graceless, sometimes ugly, always resolved in a human wholeness.” —Donald Hall
“David Budbill’s… poetry is as accessible as a parking lot and as plain as a pair of Levis.” —Parnassus