The poetry of Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950) reaches me strangely. It often invokes nature in very striking ways. Lines like “God, I can push the grass apart and place my finger on thy heart” bring forth a vision of the infinite and our part in it. In my Cantata for a Beloved Planet, I employ some of that sweeping vision, but here, I have chosen poems from her collection of the same name that are not so broad in scope, more personal and even a little irreverent, in fact, downright cheeky and cynical. I love them!