Sherry Mossafer Rind

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.

There are holes in the night’s fabric, a memory of carrying grapes from fields where wood pigeons foraged. In the distance, a star holds up the sky for her. She is lined in a sweep of neck, back, and buttock, the bent gate of her leg. Shoes and dress discarded, she has walked far to be here among shooting stars and floating lights, the open quiet away from the city. Birds lift around her in one fluttering move, quick and disciplined.

What to Read When Imagining the Natural World In one of Jane Goodall’s early books, there’s a photo of two chimpanzees sitting on a height watching the sun set. Are they enjoying the colors the way we do? Scientists warn us not to anthropomorphize because it’s a kind of arrogance to assume we know what another species thinks and feels. Fortunately, we can imagine, as we’ve been doing ever since looking at the pictures in Peter Rabbit.