The title of Bly's fourth book of poetry is borrowed from a poem by Basho in praise of the Taoist integrity of all being, which is a clue to the spirituality of Bly's work. This time, he's into prose poems, stated and developed with a precision that would befit a natural scientist. You begin in a fixed time and place, somewhere in America: home with the children in Bly's native Minnesota or at a fish hatchery in Story, Wyoming, or in Tennessee or on the rocks at Maui or on a visit to Michael McClure at Point Reyes, California. . . . Bly takes you there and points out the flora and fauna. When he ""notices ordinary earth. . . with affection,"" everything ceases to be ordinary. You are introduced to a bird's nest, a dead wren, a turtle. a dry tumbleweed, a waterfall, a dying seal, a half-grown porcupine as if each were a miracle and a demonstration of the continuing existence of grace. Extended metaphors follow on each other willy-nilly; the correspondences between objects, animals, memories and ideas are so close and the shifts accomplished with such alacrity, that the principle of nature's harmony is reaffirmed in every poem. They are a joy to read, because that was Bly's intention.