Contained in Alice Oswald’s Rhapsody is everything I hold dear. This book is a living, guiding, singing thing, a poem essay which flows over the edges of our contemporary formal limitations to revitalise language, to re-stage a lost play... Because her listening is singularly deep and nature-trained, it is so diverse, nimble, attentive and assured. It is genuinely thrilling to be swept into this wild mastery, this beating thinking heart-work. I can’t remember being as excited or as wholly engaged by a book in years. The words vibrate through you as you read, thronged by the living and the dead, human and animal in splendour and agony. It is a revitalising and radical manifesto. I will cherish it and revisit it as long as I live.