People ask about the name. A quiet watch is the shift no one notices, the hours you stand between other people and the dark so they can sleep. A medic keeps one. So does a night nurse, a soldier on the wire, a parent with a sick child. It turns out I have been writing about that same watch from both ends: the poems of a deployment, and a children’s series about watchers guarding an ordinary town from an unseen war. Different readers, one vigil. Everything under this imprint is, in the end, about keeping watch, and about the light you are watching for.