Among Others

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Book Description I. AMONG OTHERS, Marie Reilly's third collection of poems, considers the bittersweet collision of memory of long-held relationships with a life engaged in forming new ones. II. The pleasurable creativity in events that offer the company of women forms the basis of the first segment, titled "One Among Others." Reed/s One reed and others -hollow, one and all- in shallow waters flourish. In shallows refresh, in sun enliven as warmlight throbs and fills the hollows. One by one they give up their song to the winds. Oh listen! In "Yearning, " the author responds to a sense of aging and the promise in a late-life aspiration to write poetry. On the Wing Birds in flight from snow, and Anglos: The sky grays as now they every last mountain climb and night draws nigh. Oh, aspire to wildness in stance, in running, on bike and rock and ice¯ scale heights. Pack a rucksack with desire, cut fresh trails through the days and through every remaining field and stream. The third segment, "Confession, " addresses the greatest consequence of her move to the southwest-the loosened ties to long-held and very dear friendships. Fidelity Who crave me still accept the substitute, a reconfigured me. In me, in my ruminations, they find expression of sustenance in a late-life diet of writing: a nourishment, taken with the caress of late autumn breeze, a late-life diet at early winter. Blessed so, my shoulders my arm my hand my pen, relax in their late-autumn, and transform the time. Oh, the carter's truck asserts itself. Shoulder, arm, hand, pen, tense to transform its unmistakable roar. Who crave a letter from me amid that volcanic rumble, must accept the replacement now. In "Around the Rectangular Table, " the poet returns to the seductive character in local scenes. With Estela- -I ignored the old town, the dirty earth, the rutted road, but not the dumpsters sporting painted morning glories. A mongrel gaped, we paused, he turned away and disabused us of our fears. I cheered Estela as she plucked a pomegranate, the plumpest one. The sun wrapped itself around our shoulders. And with Estela, I remembered dear ones. I remembered a mother and a father, too, with Estela- She dares to proclaim herself a poet and to commit to a writing life in "In Full View." Face of a Woman Writer Grayed eyes, silvered hair, face marked by indelible sun: she embraces all or none- or one. She is a book and you are welcome to read the strange matters. Her gaze reflects the time she looks like, no need (now) for guile. Face it: pink, mottled age-spotted, slack. Writer, author, mother's daughter: Pen t