On a soft summer Virginia evening Shelly Wagner was pushing her five-year-old son in a tire swing in the backyard, idling away the hours between dinner and bedtime. She left him only for a moment, but when she returned Andrew had disappeared. He was found later that night, drowned in the river behind their home. From the depths of grief that followed, Wagner began to write poems not as therapy, she says, but to see if she could express the range of her experience more fully than the published books she d read. What emerged from Wagner s quest is a volume of verse that has comforted and...