The Green Man’s forest is full of spirits. From the loftiest cedar to the lowliest centipede, all life falls under the dominion and protection of He Who Is Verdant. Circumspect eyes track defiant interlopers while decaying tree stumps nurse saplings with maternal tenderness. Tree branches entwine sensuously, and leaves rustle like the intimate whispers of lovers. A bird in the stillness waits, talons sharp, preparing to make his kill. Joe Rosenblatt’s latest collection of poems, The Bird in the Stillness, presents a forest in chiaroscuro—a delicate ecosystem held in tenuous balance by cycles of life and death, light and darkness, companionship and solitude. It provides a rich buffet of physical, spiritual and artistic nourishment for any pilgrim who cares to walk the woodland path ... and acknowledge that his warranty on breathing might be nearing its expiry.