I fell in love upon reading the first poem from Poems from the Winter House, by Daniel Smith. This is an achingly beautiful collection of love poems—love which is conveyed through close observation, through memory vibrant in detail. Smith is a master of poignant metaphor, like that of smoke and fire and a mother’s inscrutable heart (Memory of My Mother, Burning Trash.) Sometimes, Smith’s precise descriptions soar with music, as in “Satisfied all is well, sighing, sliding, softly toward sleep,” (Segmented Sleep.) There are cheese and bologna sandwiches for a fire crew, broken windows gapped wide open, hair crossed by the wind, oak leaves lifting. This collection of poems is a masterfully crafted tribute to love and to life, wedded to a fully realized place. Part of the emotional impact of these poems is the sense of what is being lost, yet Smith helps us come to terms with this inevitable aspect of love, of the human experience. I was deeply moved and highly recommend reading this collection of poems.
