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Time and again in Volume 26, Issue 3 of Cider Press Review, we are confronted with the divine interwoven with the ordinary. In Katharyn Howard Machan’s “Skyros,” the divine arises in a summer storm: “Thunder moved through olive trees / and rain dropped high and fast. / She was prayer.” In Jennifer K.
I walk the open palm of hills where my friend will check his hives. On this dry summer day all is a soft palette of ochre, olive, lavender. He speaks of the land, the uneven roads built by the ancient Romans one stone at a time, only a cart wide. Oh, the then of time.
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