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As mothers, we must learn to embrace each moment, while also letting go of our children at every turn.

I want to believe // that under a still moon in a chilly April night, the mother / took each pup by the nape, carried them to a new nest…

…pray that she never sees the inside of a place / that removes the underwire from your bras / and strings from your shoes.

I bend my neck / for Mother’s blessing. I might be clay. / I might be dough.

Still, the forsythia comes back to us, / and the persisting / morning ice, and sun melting it.

consoles me like we are still children / now that I’m no longer carrying one

in her infancy, I could lay one of my daughter’s feet / across the pad of my fingertip, fragment of a cloud.

no matter / how the rush of days lets me forget, there is no other way. // This is not keeping house. This is caring for things

Unsure if I should bother with metaphor / I decide to tell him about my high / school gym teacher who labeled all / girls Mabel.

The poetic voices in this visually appealing collection give adolescent girls, and their mothers, permission to boldly be true to themselves.

Aimee Nezhukumatathil intertwines gratitude of the natural world with pieces of herself in A World of Wonders: In Praise of Fireflies, Whale Sharks, and Other Astonishments.