Today I heard the harsh cawing of a crow

I wonder if they hear birds

Or only the sound of rockets…in Gaza?

As the leaves under my feet rustle like a taffeta slip, I try to step gently to avoid scaring away deer. On this late November afternoon, the woods near my home are carpeted with goldenrod.

What I remember most about my mom’s bedroom is the painting of a Madonna that hung above her vanity with glass-covered tops and a burnt orange upholstered bench.

My friend Gale is beaming. She and I have just hung her exhibit at the Theosophical Society of America in Wheaton, Illinois, a hotbed of conservative Christianity that even Rick Santorum would find lacking in evangelical zeal.