This is a book of days ‘all the wellingtons left on the island strand / like tree stumps from a sunken forest’ and nights ‘my exhausted head on your lap and you caressing it.’ Here are lyric poems of grace and commemoration, humour, sensuality and sadness. O’Donovan’s poetry binds together the everyday and the mythological, the mountains and the sky, ‘the crevices of the mind’ and the crevices of the body. These are lived poems, worn, made, and touched by daily life. You turn a page and step into grief or wonder, the observations are lit with surprise.