We live in a sacramental universe, where each and every object we encounter can, in the twinkling of an eye, signify God's presence. In the introductory essay Christ himself is imaginatively likened to that king of the savanna, the lion. Bazyn's nature poems, via bright and subtle similes, move freely between the abstract and the specific, the static and the dynamic, the solemn and the whimsical--in an entrancing series of acrobatic maneuvers. Spring rain elicits the Great Awakening; a bumper harvest heralds the first Thanksgiving; a mist-covered waterfall excites a chance reverie; a flower in bloom infuses the ordinary with the supernatural; an animal game amusingly depicts quotidian diversity; hope warbles full-throatedly during an eclipse; human grandeur seems dwarfed by El Capitan; a collection of disparate, incalculable items clarify the limits of reason; creation itself groans on in anticipation of future transfiguration. To enhance each poem's significance, a striking black-and-white 35mm image is added, whether a luminous landscape or an exquisite close-up--as both flora and fauna offer up their ceaseless praise. Language itself cracks and bends into ever more unusual shapes and forms. Bazyn's vision recalls that of Gerard Manley Hopkins, who endeavored to decode nature's hidden symbolism.
