Miller immediately hits the reader with the gravity of the subject he is exploring with these poems and for a citizen of the island to which this phrase, 'in nearby bushes', has deep and disturbing meanings, the mind and heart are engaged. 

He is speaking with a voice that commands that you see the island for what she gives, what she bears and bares. See the hidden things, the exposed things, the things you take for granted; her beauty, strength,  lushness, fertility, barrenness and ecological diversity.

She is an island with secrets, has secrets, is secrets. An island that entices, excites and soothes.

I love the way Miller constructs his poems, they instruct, inform, evoke. They make one take a trip through time and space; to question the imagery, the name, the place. The poems makes one see that no matter how much we think we know place; understand place, there will still be places to define, uncover, and know.

There is a phrase that every Jamaican knows, a phrase that conjures images and words such as police, gunman, shootout, and escape. But Miller's collection in nearby bushes is so much more. It is where our brave ancestors led by Nanny, staged guerilla attacks, where lovers meet, where children play, where the majesty of the island is held. With these poems, Miller parts the shrubs, branches, and leaves, inviting you into nearby bushes where beauty also remains.