Greg Schroeder

This is not just a book of poems, it is a book of memories. Once again you find yourself enjoying the days of your youth, the smell of grass after rain, the dust of the neighborhood ball park, the fury of an oncoming storm. We grow up, we get busy, and we forget the magic and wonder of the world around us. These poems bring that magic back.

These are poems of the everyday: noticing the little things while taking a walk: a forgotten shed, the passing of time, and how that time passing changes your viewpoint; finding that your love of a person has changed only in the details observed, but still affecting you to the same degree. It is hope found in scents, in the air, and in flowers rising from urban neglect. It is remembering things are never all bad, that so much depends what we focus on. Will you look at the broken-down and find something worthy? Will you remember the use an object once had? The poems are sometimes personal, but not so much as to prevent someone from relating.

This is the writer's second book of poems.