Richard Wilbur had a famously slow process of writing a poem. It could take him half a decade to finalize his poems. He once remarked that a fellow soldier told him on the day the bomb fell in HIroshima, “I bet you can’t write a poem about this.” Wilbur says that it wasn’t until he heard the chair of the Atomic Energy Commission talk about the impact of radiation on wildlife and plant life that he finally had a breakthrough sufficient to describe the enormity of this moment. I thought of the disappearance of the white tailed deer. I thought of the disappearance of the carrot.