Barbara Molloy-Olund’s poems begin squarely in the world of the senses, then extend that world into the realm of imagination. The sky comes to imply a commanding spiritual intelligence. Trees tossing in a storm suggest the “fleeting, impetuous nerve/ we manage only once or twice/ our whole lives.” Pigs in a barnyard imply a rich connection between the sacred and the profane, The poet’s achievement is her subtlety; we admire her serene and unobtrusive flights of mind. Molloy-Olund’s Midwestern landscapes mesh gracefully with her ruminations, creating a poetry that is hers alone.
