leaves us hungry for more of the poet's open, probing, leaping intelligence, her "wild associations" and surprises in the unexpected "shivering" sweetness of a love story where "joy scrambles sadness." We hear "the clatter of souls entering bodies" and experience "spring's lizard stealth" as sadness, longing and reluctance are transformed by breath-stopping beauty. Like a creature in the forest, the poet will "rub my cheek against the night." And she reminds us a prince waits, perhaps for centuries, until we wake. --Susan G. Wooldridge, author of