In Anything and Its Shadow, Vermont poet Lucie McKee writes from a place of patience and continual curiosity, both for her own presence in the world and for the nuances of the vastness that lies beyond her intimate awareness. Here is a collection of astute observation and keen awareness and in the opening poem, “If Only,” the poet invites the reader on her journey: “I can’t get / over that we’re alive— / now, this second / which is already gone. / If only I could pick / a bunch of wild / seconds in the field / and hand them / to you in a jelly jar…” At ninety-one years of age, McKee reflects on a life spent soaking in every spice and tasting note of delight, sadness, and frustration. She demands the ability to keep listening and learning from interactions, memories, and the spaces she finds herself in. As readers, we are transported to a place of welcome contemplation. We join McKee at her table in the evening light, recognizing our own stories in the scope of a much greater expanse that is the sky, the people, the birds, the light, the tastes and smells, enveloping us all.