There is a talent to describing the natural world that resists mere wonder for the sake of what used to be called the sublime, in which the mind willingly puts out its own light in the glow of more profound illumination. Marcus Whalbring has such talent. He also has a voice so human and sensible we think this sort of going into the world should be for all of us. These poems are spun from thought, they take that thought not to where it ends, but to where it rightly disappears. There the poet's intelligence-arranged in patterns of language and rhythm-meets a different intelligence, that of a particular landscape, arranged in its patterns of season, weather, morning and night, according to its ineffable being.

~Maurice Manning