Henry Taylor writes of his family and his own biography in close connection with the land and its geologic and human history. As some have noted, these poems certainly seem influenced by Frost and echo Wendell Berry. Sometimes the “blank verse” becomes a bit too prosy for me, but the emotion and subtle imagery is never prosaic.
“He came here, had his life, and as his last strength goes,
the little branch keeps washing over algae-laden stones.”
How simply to tell the story of our mortality and of the near immortality of the flowing of the natural world around us.