Notes to Self

You can see it: a life's dedication not to looking but to seeing. A field in his daily walk is a "green wing of the hill" and "broken rooms [are] stacked with moonlight and shadow.” Here, in the night, the young "fall on one another in a tangle of cries of discovery" and "birds in black coats minister to the newly dead.”
—Alice Friman

Picture a broad oak deep in a small forest surrounded by farmland, a silvery sycamore over decades leaning into the meander of a creek just out of sight of the highway. This is where Eric Rensberger finds his poems: in the misty mystic remnants of wilderness, where wistful longing, quiet revelation, and generous friendship form a foundation as solid as a stack of river rock.
—Tony Brewer, 2024 Indiana Literary Champion