The poems, meditations, and lamentations in Ken Hada's Visions for the Night see several disparate things: nature as both metaphor and vehicle for human fragility; mortals' tenuous relations with the environment and the somber reverence that we are merely creatures among many; fading relationships with self and others like withering leaves in frost. Hada, with stolid grace, sings that our actions lead to our demise, yet finds dim solace in the possibilities: wildlife, memory, and a return to the gritty routine of my tomorrows. Hada asks When Time comes calling/will my crawling toward faith/be enough? Some of the answers lurk in this stirring collection.