Trying my Wings
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Cheri Miller's poems are flush with imagery that reflects earth's bounty. Her opening poem, "First Religion," begins "When the line was blurred between yard and woods." In it, she writes of the moon, wet grass, blackberries, and wild grapes. We imagine this is the poet's faith, grounded in the belief that the natural world can sustain us, carry us through the difficult times, provide shelter and rest. Other poems hark back to childhood, as in "The Woods Still Accept me as a Little Girl" where she "laughs like summer," or to an earlier time in the poet's life when nature was a playground or ref...
Cheri Miller's poems are flush with imagery that reflects earth's bounty. Her opening poem, "First Religion," begins "When the line was blurred between yard and woods." In it, she writes of the moon, wet grass, blackberries, and wild grapes. We imagine this is the poet's faith, grounded in the belief that the natural world can sustain us, carry us through the difficult times, provide shelter and rest. Other poems hark back to childhood, as in "The Woods Still Accept me as a Little Girl" where she "laughs like summer," or to an earlier time in the poet's life when nature was a playground or refuge. We lose ourselves in a melancholia that is deeply satisfying. Such is the talent of a writer who is living within, but also looking out with a keen eye for capturing the daily objects and sights we might overlook. She enlivens all the senses. When Miller writes, "God settled into me/like snow settles in grass," we can picture it easily. There is nature and human nature, and the vicissitudes of both are captured in this small, but powerful collection. While we are offered a window into loss and mourning, we are also gifted with love poems that are generous, grateful, and "honeysuckle sweet." It is a pleasure to read them. There is also hope here for the world to heal. We savor the images and sensibility that pay homage to Emily Dickenson. Miller's poems fall into you gracefully. They are poems that "fall/in all the little creases/Between dry blades of grass."-Christine Higgins, Hallow Cheri Miller's book, Trying My Wings, is charming, delicate, and fully alive. Most of the poems take the reader outside into familiar settings, but Miller shows us specific details that surprise and stick with us. "First Religion" prepares us for a journey from a moon-lit path where "cool grass waters" the speaker's feet, and "blackberries droop with their midnight juice," to the last poem where the speaker shares a moment with a small bird taking flight. Repeatedly Miller shows us the beauty of the natural world in ways we have not seen it before. Speaking about the bird, Miller says, "...there was a moment/when we were reflections in each other's eyes." Miller's world becomes "honeysuckle sweet" as she describes falling in love. In "Hope," the speaker finds "...the lilacs loving me/through your open window." In "Pining," as the lovers yearn to be together, Miller observes, "snow comes and falls/in all the tiny creases/between dry blades of grass." The spectacular observations of the natural world continue throughout. Whatever the season, you are going to enjoy this flight!-Virginia Crawford, author of Touch, and questions for water
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