Sisters, Cousins and Wayward Angels displays Tillinghast's fascination with women, young and old, their beauty and their mystery. Many of the poems in this collection also play with notions of the contentment derived from spending long days and nights of solitude in the woods. These poems stir images and long remembered feelings.

NE M'OUBLIEZ PAS!

She doesn't wear a coat,

Goes barefoot in the winter,

I think she must achieve

Symphony from setting.

She cocks her head and whips

Her hip out like a knife—

Haven't a clue where she comes from—

A rhapsody, crimson ballad,

Not a life.

She winks and shrugs her shoulders,

Sigh of Circean resolution—

Minor heaven, indigo

Paradise—she moves

To a vivid conclusion.