On reading the poems in depth, and particularly when ordering, I am filled with admiration for the breadth of our poets’ skills, imagination and integrity . I experience the whole, parts interlaced; the trees, their leaves, creatures and branches . What quiet thoughts are raised as I read, what memories, what connections open up? Not long ago, I heard someone read ‘Ode to Autumn’ and was transfixed, so familiar were those lines living inside me like a song, both tender and powerful. Small phrases may trigger new thoughts, a desire to find out more – no doubt a different experience for all who partake. I’m captivated by Mercedes Cebrián’s opening line (translated by Terence Dooley); ‘That stupid Karen Blixen. . .’ its disrespect – intrigued to know why – the audacity. I don’t know much about KB so I look her up. Later in the same poem I am told with certainty, ‘Daylight now is quite unlike / that of the old days.’ and I think, yes!