Wind Apples

Here then gone. We sense each / other in the dark hands outstretched beneath / humming wires holding on Jeff Ewing writes toward the end of Wind Apples an astonishingly aching collection of poems that resonate and vibrate so struck with awe are they. His poems bear witness to the ephemeral-not always as elegy but as a way to wonder and to make monument out of fleeting moments of beauty in the natural world or fleeting connections between people-be they lovers or family members. And though those hands reach out Ewing also reminds us that the gods let us know when weve overreached. In poem after burnished poem he lights the darkness for us allows us to see clearly a world that is here then gone. He inspires us to keep looking and not to turn away. -James Allen Hall