Body and Echo

Walking Home at Dusk Fireflies trail like sparks from a still-smoldering day. The crescent moon harvests clouds while corn falls quiet under evening mists. Crickets have one thing to say: this this. The genius of Jennifer Burds poetry lies not only in the ways her language inhabits each and every one of her internal and external landscapes but also in the profound yet playful delight of her responses to and conversations with even the smallest details so at home in the universe she inhabits: from In Winter I must belong to a land under hard freeze the mourning doves silence above the snow calls trees out of the blue so I can see the pure shape of the world each day born unadorned stripping me bare promising everything. - Simone Yehuda author of Thaw and Lifting Water