"Cherished nature poet Oliver begins her twentieth collection by asking, 'What can I say that I have not said before?' Then continues reporting on the wisdom she gleans in woods and on the beach, making each dispatch fresh and startling by way of the vitality of her encompassing vision and the fluidity and shine of her language. Her love for dogs remains ardent; she is still enthralled by birds and unrepentant in her celebration of beauty. The sun of her gratitude is great, illuminating beloved household objects, the rapidity of a hummingbird, and 'the drowse of mountains.' The poet gets bloodied when she tries to help an injured gull, which inspires her to declare, 'I love this world, even in its hard places. / A bird too must love this world, / even in its hard places. / So, even if the effort may come to nothing, / you have to do something.' Oliver's plainspoken yet ringing poems are testimony to joy, prayers, and sermons. She concurs: 'Okay, I confess to wanting to make a literature of praise'."—Booklist