David W. Berner’s Garden Tools is a poignant collection of poems that gently draws readers into a world where nature, memory, and mortality weave together. The book is split into thematic sections—Landscape, Love, and Longing—each capturing slices of life, both subtle and grand. Berner finds meaning in the smallest details: a dog’s gaze, a neighbor’s new presence, the quiet pause before a storm. He treats ordinary moments with reverence, like a gardener turning the soil of memory and reflection. With language both plainspoken and lyrical, Berner celebrates life’s impermanence, urging us to notice, to feel, and to remember.

What struck me most was the honesty of Berner’s voice. These poems are not dressed up or hiding behind metaphor. Instead, they walk beside you, like an old friend, whispering memories you forgot you had. The poem “Thinking of My Death,” where the speaker drives around with his sister’s ashes in the backseat, wrecked me in the best way. It’s morbid and funny and tender all at once. And that’s the magic here—Berner balances grief and joy like they’re siblings. Nothing feels forced. His images—like cleaning dirt-caked garden tools or watching squirrels tease a dog—are simple but loaded.

A few poems felt light, like sketches not fully painted. Maybe that was the point—to leave space for the reader—but there were moments when I wanted a little more grit or tension. Still, those quieter pieces often served as breathers between more emotionally heavy poems. And by the end, I found myself grateful for that rhythm. The understated ones gave the more powerful verses room to bloom. And when Berner is at his best—as in “If a Father Cries” or “The Last Tulip”—he delivers emotional punches that feel both personal and universal.

Garden Tools is for anyone who’s ever looked out a window and felt a little ache in their chest. It’s for people who remember childhood smells and the way a parent’s voice could rise or fall like a season. I’d recommend this book to lovers of thoughtful poetry. This collection won’t shout for your attention, but if you listen, it will sing something tender and lasting.

Pages: 61