The following version of this book was used to create the guide: Smith, Nelson. Goldenrod. Atria, 2021.

Maggie Smith's Goldenrod is a collection of 54 poems. The collection is divided into three sections, even of which possess a common theme. Each individual poem possesses its own title, thematic concerns, and formal presentation. The following summary offers a streamlined explanation of each poem's central subject matter.

In Part 1, "This Sort of Thing Happens All the Time," the speaker wishes she could name the things she sees and hears in the natural world.

In "Goldenrod," the speaker identifies a flower on the roadside as goldenrod. Knowing it might not be goldenrod, she invites the flower to name her.

In "Animals," the president’s derogatory comments about immigrants catalyze the speaker’s thoughts about human and animal behaviors.

In "The Hum," the speaker has a hum inside her body. She regards it as her soul and her companion.

In "In the Grand Scheme of Things," a flock of wrens flying over the speaker’s lawn, makes her wonder about her nation's history.

In "Ohio Cento," the speaker observes her childhood neighborhood and thinks about the past and future.

In "Lacrimae," observations of her children's atlas inspire the speaker's contemplations on truth and reality.

In "Poem Beginning with a Retweet," a tweet inspires the speaker's thoughts about nature, beauty, and humanity.

In "Walking the Dog," the speaker imagines what it would be like to be the woman walking her dog down the street.

In "Starlings," the speaker observes a flock of starlings, trying to see them only as they are.

In "Written Deer," the speaker considers the relationship between her writing and her surroundings.

In "Rose Has Hands," the speaker's cell phone autocorrects her messages, making her realize how little she understands.

In "At the End of Our Marriage, in the Backyard," when the speaker and her husband stop mowing the lawn, the honeybees move in.

In "If I could set this to music," the speaker says if she could add music to her words, her husband might understand her.

In "Talk of Horses," the speaker tries making sense of her childhood memories.

In "Inventive Spelling," the speaker interprets her son's phonetic spellings as a lesson she must learn.

In "Stone," the speaker tries learning about touch and connection from the natural world.

In "Threshold," the speaker imagines what it might be like to walk through a succession of doorways.

In Part 2, "Slipper," a shell makes the speaker wonder what it would be like to carry her home on her back.

In "For My Next Trick," the speaker's daughter's questions about birth inspire the speaker's questions about death.

In "December 18, 2008," memories of her child's birth, inspire the speaker’s reflections on the body and mind.

In "Small Blue Town," the speaker erects a blue town inside herself. She knows the town exists, but cannot visit it.

In "Ohio Cento," the speaker’s early life in Ohio inspires her reflections on survival.

In “Airplanes,” the speaker watches her son sleep, knowing he is safer than other mothers’ sons.

In "Tender Age," the speaker interrogates America.

In "Prove," the speaker goes to bed hoping a thought will grow into something bigger.

In "Poor Sheep," the speaker tries not to project her experience onto nature.

In "Half Staff," the Sandy Hook shooting makes the speaker wonder about life and death.

In "Perennials," the speaker delights in the sight of overgrown lots.

In "Interrogators of Orchids," the speaker lists the things parents teach their children as new citizens of the world.

In "At the End of My Marriage, I Think of Something My Daughter Said About Trees," the speaker remembers her daughter describing the relationship between the sky and trees.

In "Not everything is a poem," the speaker tries suppressing her impulse to make a poem out of everything.

In "Confession," the speaker's son's fevers make the speaker contemplate God.

In "Small Shoes," the speaker wonders about environmental destruction.

In "Planetarium in January," a trip to the planetarium grants the speaker temporary calm.

In "After the Divorce, I Think of Something My Daughter Said About Mars," the speaker interprets her daughter's thoughts on space travel as wisdom.

In "Poem Beginning with a Line from Bashō," the speaker wonders how her marriage could have ended.

In Part 3, "Invisible Architecture," the speaker thought the air was waiting for her to create something from it. She realizes she was wrong.

In "Wild," the speaker wonders about her capacity to love the world.

In "Junk trees," the speaker tries describing the repellant odor of Bradford Pears.

In "First Thaw," the speaker takes her child outside to prove that the world is greater than the house.

In "A Room Like This," the speaker's thoughts about childbirth inspire her thoughts on mortality.

In "Ohio Cento," the speaker describes a summer day in Ohio, musing upon the sights and sounds.

In "Woman, 41, with a History of Alzheimer's on Both Sides of Her Family," though the speaker cannot recall simple things, she remembers her early life.

In "What Else," the speaker tries understanding how God could turn his face on the world.

In "Porthole," the speaker wishes she and her child could go outside. They watch the rain through the window.

In "Joke," the speaker tells the past it does not exist.

In "Homesick on a Farm in Franklin, Tennessee," the speaker is overcome with nostalgia she cannot rectify.

In "During Lockdown, I Let the Dog Sleep in My Bed Again," the speaker tries easing her daughter's loneliness during lockdown.

In "Wife for Scale," memories of the speaker’s old professor inspire her reflections on loneliness and aging.

In "Bride," the speaker takes herself as her own bride.

In "Talisman," the speaker carries her son's trinkets in her pockets for comfort.

In "How Dark the Beginning," the speaker argues on behalf of darkness.

In "Verse Chorus Verse Chorus Bridge," the speaker wonders if it is possible to collectively write a new song.