A View from Cabbagetown, I was kneeling in a dewdrenched meadow photographing wildflowers and damselflies. From the meadow I walked along a wooded lakeside path, watching as the rising sun turned the water gold. Six swans came in for a landing, and a man preparing his little boat for a fishing excursion looked, from my vantage point, as if he were doing tai chi on the dock. These are the images I brought home with me, writing haiku in my head and then in a notebook. And then I was presented with the opportunity to write this foreword; and then I opened A View from Cabbagetown and read in the first poem, “Is there magic - all around you? / In the early morning mists”—and my complete morning was realized by the light of mutual understanding that poetry (or any art) can offer.