What good company Mary Oliver is the Los Angeles Times has remarked. And never more so than in this extraordinary and engaging gathering of nine essays, accompanied by a brief selection of new prose poems and poems. (One of the essays has been chosen as among the best of the year by The Best Amer

Winter Bees & Other Poems of the Cold summons forth the charms and dictates of winter. Just as Joyce Sidman captured the drama of the pond in Song of the Water Boatman and the night woods in Dark Emperor and Other Poems of the Night, here she captures the drama of the cold. Why don't snakes freeze to death? How does the tiny honeybee survive frost? Learn about the secret lives of animals happening under the snow and how it buds to spring!

Celebrate winter through a special collection of poetry from some of the world's greatest poets such as William Shakespeare, Edgar Allan Poe, Wallace Stevens, Edna St. Vincent Millay, and others. An ALA Notable Children's Book. Full color. Copyright © Libri GmbH. All rights reserved.

The first new collection in twelve years by renowned California poet and New Formalist, Timothy Steele. A quiet intelligence pervades the lines of these poems and reinforces Steele's mastery of form and image.

WINNER OF THE NOBEL PRIZE IN LITERATURE A haunting book by a poet whose voice speaks of all our lifetimes Louise Glück’s thirteenth book is among her most haunting. Here as in the Wild Iris there is a chorus, but the speakers are entirely human, simultaneously spectral and ancient. Winter Recipes from the Collective is chamber music, an invitation into that privileged realm small enough for the individual instrument to make itself heard, dolente, its line sustained, carried, and then taken up by the next instrument, spirited, animoso, while at the same time being large enough to contain a whole lifetime, the inconceivable gifts and losses of old age, the little princesses rattling in the back of a car, an abandoned passport, the ingredients of an invigorating winter sandwich, a sister’s death, the joyful presence of the sun, its brightness measured by the darkness it casts. “Some of you will know what I mean,” the poet says, by which she means, some of you will follow me. Hers is the sustaining presence, the voice containing all our lifetimes, “all the worlds, each more beautiful than the last.” This magnificent book couldn’t have been written by anyone else, nor could it have been written by the poet at any other time in her life.

Rich, luminous fabrics. Eleven miles of thread. An uncountable number of stitches. Clear, sparkling words. With these ingredients Anna Grossnickle Hines celebrates the lights that brighten the darkest season of our year. In poems and quilts she captures each heartening glow and flicker, from the moon and aurora borealis to the holiday lights of Santa Lucia, Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanzaa, and Chinese New Year to one lone candle and a hidden flashlight in the deep, dark night.

Winner of the Max Ritvo Poetry Prize: A “luminous [and] memorable” debut that searches widely to ask what it means to exist in a state of loss (Publishers Weekly). “We lived overlooking the walls overlooking the cemetery.” So begins the title poem of this collection, whose recursive temporality is filled with living, grieving things, punctuated by an unseen world of roots, bodies, and concealed histories. Like a cemetery, too, The Milk Hours sets unlikely neighbors alongside each other: Hegel and Murakami, Melville and the Persian astronomer al-Sufi, enacting a transhistorical poetics even as it brims with intimacy. These are poems of frequent swerves and transformations, which never stray far from an engagement with science, geography, art, and aesthetics, nor from the dream logic that motivates their incessant investigations. While John James begins with the biographical—the haunting loss of a father in childhood, the exhausted hours of early fatherhood—the questions that emerge from his poetic synthesis are both timely and universal: What is it to be human in an era where nature and culture have fused? To live in a time of political and environmental upheaval, of both personal and public loss? How do we make meaning, and to whom—or what—do we turn, when such boundaries so radically collapse? “A poet of staggering lyricism, intricate without ever obscuring his intent. Quite simply, The Milk Hours announces the arrival of a great new talent in American poetry.” —Shelf Awareness

Marianne Boruch's patience "allows her to see what is there with a jeweler's sense of facet and flaw" (Poetry magazine).