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Cheri Miller's poems are flush with imagery that reflects earth's bounty. Her opening poem, "First Religion," begins "When the line was blurred between yard and woods." In it, she writes of the moon, wet grass, blackberries, and wild grapes. We imagine this is the poet's faith, grounded in the belief that the natural world can sustain us, carry us through the difficult times, provide shelter and rest. Other poems hark back to childhood, as in "The Woods Still Accept me as a Little Girl" where she "laughs like summer," or to an earlier time in the poet's life when nature was a playground or refuge. We lose ourselves in a melancholia that is deeply satisfying. Such is the talent of a writer who is living within, but also looking out with a keen eye for capturing the daily objects and sights we might overlook. She enlivens all the senses. When Miller writes, "God settled into me/like snow settles in grass," we can picture it easily. There is nature and human nature, and the vicissitudes of both are captured in this small, but powerful collection. While we are offered a window into loss and mourning, we are also gifted with love poems that are generous, grateful, and "honeysuckle sweet." It is a pleasure to read them. There is also hope here for the world to heal. We savor the images and sensibility that pay homage to Emily Dickenson. Miller's poems fall into you gracefully. They are poems that "fall/in all the little creases/Between dry blades of grass."
-Christine Higgins, HallowCheri Miller's poems are flush with imagery that reflects earth's bounty. Her opening poem, "First Religion," begins "When the line was blurred between yard and woods." In it, she writes of the moon, wet grass, blackberries, and wild grapes. We imagine this is the poet's faith, grounded in the belief that the natural world can sustain us, carry us through the difficult times, provide shelter and rest. Other poems hark back to childhood, as in "The Woods Still Accept me as a Little Girl" where she "laughs like summer," or to an earlier time in the poet's life when nature was a playground or refuge. We lose ourselves in a melancholia that is deeply satisfying. Such is the talent of a writer who is living within, but also looking out with a keen eye for capturing the daily objects and sights we might overlook. She enlivens all the senses. When Miller writes, "God settled into me/like snow settles in grass," we can picture it easily. There is nature and human nature, and the vicissitudes of both are captured in this small, but powerful collection. While we are offered a window into loss and mourning, we are also gifted with love poems that are generous, grateful, and "honeysuckle sweet." It is a pleasure to read them. There is also hope here for the world to heal. We savor the images and sensibility that pay homage to Emily Dickenson. Miller's poems fall into you gracefully. They are poems that "fall/in all the little creases/Between dry blades of grass."
-Christine Higgins, Hallow
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