In Mari Ya’s foreword to PJ Thomas’ new collection of poetry, Drifting, she speaks eloquently of the way in which each poem beckons, asking the reader to find their heart within the pages. The hand of the poet becomes a direct, gestural movement toward its audience as shades of Mary Oliver evoke sentiments that speak of and to nature as a way of finding ourselves and our sometimes tenuous, sometimes courageous, and always tenderly wrought connections to each other.

In “Man About Town,” Thomas dares to flirt with a kind of lyrical slant rhyme by pairing ordinary words—ready, headed, polished, college, foliage, water and daughters—creating a playful poetic landscape that ultimately reveals both the laughter and the tears of the poem’s subject. The man in question finds a way in which to relate to the hand and the heart of a poet who writes a snippet of his complex narrative of emotion into the woven moments of friendship and camaraderie that run through the overall collection. Thomas, as she does in many of the poems, makes the reader feel they may be reading about someone they know, someone they have complex connections to, and someone they love through the gaze of friendship as it morphs in and out of diverse layers of conversation and social interaction.

He is well-dressed and pretty,
sits upright and ready,
he knows where he’s headed,
this man about town.

His leather shoes are polished,
his jacket is from college.
He knows how to promenade boldly around the fountains, squares, and foliage.

But he meanders by the water,
truly loves his dear, sweet daughters.

I write him poems and letters,
and we laugh and cry like clowns.

There is a lovely recurring singsong quality throughout Drifting, interspersed among poems of a clearly stark and engaging conversational tone. In “She Will Lift You Up” the poet writes candidly of a relationship with a friend in a direct, storytelling manner. As the narrative moves gradually in and out of Thomas’ signature poetic style through the final mention of nature—squirrels, harmony, loved ones, and the startling, poignant, matter of fact presence of the final two lines.

…to my heartbeat.
I require mutual harmony at almost any cost. And she needs truth, honour and justice
for squirrels, loved ones
and drug-addicted folks
who have fallen in the street.

The poem meanders beautifully, then takes one by surprise, as it moves us through a variety of feelings. Feelings that seem simultaneously familiar, heartfelt, jarring, melodic, tragic, and soothing.

Within its carefully constructed lyricism, and its boldly direct way of telling us to listen to the day to day intricacies of life and living, Drifting evokes a kind of love of landscape and living. In “Right Behind You” Thomas shares the intimate details that make up the complex ways of loving and caring that run throughout the collection.

I toast you with clear champagne
from glaciers melted
into the cup of good cheer.
Be forewarned that I don’t say goodbye well. I just ignore the oblivion

that will follow this heaven of being in your wake.

As she bonds with the people within these personal landscapes, Thomas frequently evokes the thematic elements of some of Mary Oliver’s poems by creating a bridge between humanity and the wildness of nature—as seen in Oliver’s “Wild Geese.” She makes this tender and complicated poetic narrative all her own through differing style, a frank questioning tone on the complexity of human nature, and a constant devotion to speaking directly of and to herself and her intimate friendships. Ultimately, Drifting asks the heart to find itself in a new way each time we feel.