With this second book of poetry, Returning to the Point, Dorothy Mahoney has revisited her childhood to explore rituals of the past. From “Soup at Six” to “Sunday Drives,” the landscapes surrounding her grandparents’ farm reveal early experiences with death and the illusion of childhood wishes. Coming from the city, there was something magical about the farm, from her grandmother’s ability to grow anything from bare cuttings, to her grandfather’s stuffed red fox and his violin. As immigrants, the farm was their second beginning; the first was only a lengthening shadow. This collection celebrates the land from Point Pelee to Bon Echo and extends to Mexico and Peru to explore the fragile link between hope and despair, on the edge of Eden, wondering as woodlots are cleared for development, mice mysteriously die in the potting shed, and far off in the Himalayas, a man ponders the dwindling number of bees. The burial customs of Madagascar frame the last link with the family’s past, as a spinster aunt’s burial plot in Austria is no longer renewed but is instead, resold and reused. Eventually, the farm is also sold; transplanted raspberry canes refuse to grow. All that was is gone. This is a book about change and the struggle to accept what was and what remains; returning to the point to salvage and reclaim.