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This is an old man's book, not simply because of my age, but because I am taking one last basket to market, and I want to fill it with as many good eggs as I can find.  The title poem is followed by poems for Isabelle and other members of my incredibly loveable family.  The next group of poems is a broad mix, the first having been written in recent years; then poems written over my many decades, at one time or another having been considered for a book but rejected, now all have been revised sufficiently well to satisfy my fussy taste. Obviously, I chose everything here and...