Reading Brian Doyle and it’s like
He took a vacation in my head, with a canoe or
Kayak, paddling around the marsh collecting lily
Pads and skunk cabbages, so prevalent in the dark spots,
And weaving them into a poem that speaks
Exactly to me and finds, dead on, the absolute place
That renders me awed and agape at the perfection of it,
The ultimate gift, you know?