Cold Moon Journal

pine straw

what’s left of being

neighborly

—Jamie Wimberly

falling leaves —

the one we call

my funeral suit

—John Pappas

all day snow

another poem

in the bin

—John Pappas

left too early

the unheard whisper

of snow 

—David Ngo

passing winter...

a woman in the same carriage

sleeping

—Thomas Landgraf

no sound

other than birdsong

at dawn

these moments

of quiet longing

—Arvinder Kaur

washing potatoes

the shape of

my wedding ring

—Morgan Ophir

late snow

my steps

inside my father’s

—Bill Fay

unburdened

a canary sleeps

in Buddha’s hands

—Bill Fay

opening petals

this dream again           

of death

—Anne Fox

creasing the corner

of a love poem

crescent moon

—Alvin B. Cruz

last petal

the pause before

she loves me not

—Alvin B. Cruz

charity supplies

a woman asks 

about free wine 

—Tuyet Van Do

winter’s darkness

the cool of cans

from the cupboard 

—Bryan Rickert

sweet-scented roses

starting to bloom

in late twenties

—Anam Tariq

sparkling crust

snow drifts

at high noon

—Dinah Power

mostly dark 

the horses call us 

first

breaking light

a short cut

to the woodpile

harvest hands . . .

a farm table

of biscuits and gravy

morning frost

on grandpa’s old tractor

cough, cough, cough

an owl floats

just over the barn

come daylight

—Randy Brooks

all the stars

becoming river

melting snow

—Joanna Ashwell

last train

my reflection

between strangers

—Richard E Schell

chipped cup

waiting for my referral

to the breast clinic

—Jessica Allyson

spelling winter 

a perfect v 

of wild geese

—Tony Williams

winter playground

on a creaking swing

a sparrow

—Helen Sokolsky

daughter's first solo

the quivering

of moon moths

—Douglas J. Lanzo

warm stove 

the purring 

of the cat

—Refika Dedić

teacup ring

on the bedside table

cold moon

—Nitu Yumnam

overthinking—

all the cauliflower florets

cling-filmed

—Nitu Yumnam

medication cup

half empty

half full

—Nitu Yumnam

late winter storm 

the trembling pulse

of a spider web

—Nitu Yumnam

snow-laden 

branch 

the 

weight 

of 

unsaid

—Nitu Yumnam