When I picked up former Iowa Poet Laureate Robert Dana's 2004 collection of poetry, I relaxed into magic moments caught and cherished for the beauty of their quietness: the play of light and dark, nature's sounds and sights, and neighborhood events.
This is indeed poetry to be read in your own backyard.
Dana relishes sensory pleasures, muses on mortality, ponders his place in life, and slips in a sly comment on the then President and our unwilling trudge to war.
The title poem, inspired by Red Admiral butterflies spiraling upward, reminds me of a moment many years ago when a butterfly landed on my finger to taste juice of weeds I had been pulling from a flower bed.
He even inspired me to write my own poem commemorating that moment.