When you open Season's End , you enter the lush world of nature in all her fecundity: trees, leaves and flowers, forest paths, birds and butterflies, and much more. In this book, all of nature is in motion, and you can feel it with the detailed and delightful descriptions set before us. From the poem "Tunnel Vision," As I breathe deeply, the leaf mold, the debris, the wet richness hangs underneath the sheer breeze . And also, from "In Flight," The Black Swallowtail, soaking up the last of the afternoon heat through her ...
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When you open Season's End , you enter the lush world of nature in all her fecundity: trees, leaves and flowers, forest paths, birds and butterflies, and much more. In this book, all of nature is in motion, and you can feel it with the detailed and delightful descriptions set before us. From the poem "Tunnel Vision," As I breathe deeply, the leaf mold, the debris, the wet richness hangs underneath the sheer breeze . And also, from "In Flight," The Black Swallowtail, soaking up the last of the afternoon heat through her jet wings, freckled with the vibrance of blue and yellow spots . In Season's End , we find a delight to our senses as B.A. France shares close observation and wonder of the natural world, his world, as it is closely known. Jeannie F.Martin, author of Clear Water: a haiku invitation into our luminous, sacred world In Season's End , B.A. France not only takes note of the crickets, creeks, the Cabbage White, he also takes the reader on a looping, curving road that opens to another path, a grazing room, where we, too, might escape our tunnel vision and "unfurl at the edge" of the wood. A lovely debut, "freckled with the vibrance of blue..." Robin White, editor, Akitsu Quarterly
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