Egg Money

T. Clear tends a handful of hens on a small patch of earth-her mission of care in a troubled world. In these poems, she watches and works with love, grit, and humor, hauling water and straw like a Zen nun, gathering eggs, and daily resurrecting the hen house. With generosity and a poet's keen eye, she offers steadfast beauty against dissolution. Let your heart be lifted: read these poems.-Kathryn Hunt, author of Seed Wheel and Long Way Through RuinWe hear their "maternal clucks," see the girls "with their high-cluck strut." The last poem, "Reasons to Continue," is a gem: "This one egg / bedded in straw, / golden-rose / in the middle of winter. / These three hens / fluffing the nest." Reasons enough to live long and raise chickens.-Phoebe Bosché, Managing Editor, Raven Chronicles Press