By M. R. Pelletier

Rotting log—

   forest returns

   to forest

M. R. Pelletier

By Ron Scully

cranberry sauce

in-laws

take sides of the table

Ron Scully

*

 

leftovers

what we talk about

driving home

Ron Scully

By Ram Chandran

passing village school

the child in me

slips through train window

Ram Chandran

By Caroline Ridley-Duff

Sunlight through stained glass,

new patterns on

an ancient stone floor.

Caroline Ridley-Duff

By Robert Witmer

blinking

with a thousand eyes

raindrops on the lake

Robert Witmer

*

 

chainsaws

no one to answer

the ringing in the trees

Robert Witmer

By Maria Malferrari

Speaking every day with silence


Maria Malferrari

By Barrie Levine

fridge magnets

yet another plan

to sort out my life

Barrie Levine

By Joseph P. Wechselberger

taproom

the clink of a coin

as it drops in the jukebox

Joseph P. Wechselberger

By Chris Langer

nightly stroll

my shadow

a black cat

Chris Langer

*

 

sunny afternoon

painting the wall

with shadow puppets

Chris Langer

*

 

book fair

children wait in line

for new adventures

Chris Langer

By Ruth Holzer

waking

from a dream of love

I'm grateful

for imagination

in place of memory

Ruth Holzer

By Maria Teresa Sisti

beaver moon —

the hospice so cold

without noise

Maria Teresa Sisti

By Peter Jastermsky

forest jazz a polyrhythm of woodpeckers

Peter Jastermsky

By Chris Peys

alley cat

today my friend

meow, meow

Chris Peys

*

 

rainy day

(un)folded paper

still not a crane

Chris Peys

By Refika Dedić

cat

scratches on the window

haiku

Refika Dedić

By Pat Geyer

gnawing

from dusk

til dawn...

forecast of biting cold

under the light

of the full beaver moon 

 

Pat Geyer

By John Pappas

owl light

what I would

do differently

John Pappas

By Anna Eklund-Cheong

if trees

could sing . . .

magnolia blossoms

Anna Eklund-Cheong

By Chen-ou Liu

at twilight

my father in the window

of his care home room

he lives the present only

leaning on his wartime past

Chen-ou Liu

By Mircea Moldovan

prayer

the yellow taste

of pumpkin soup

Mircea Moldovan

By Mirela Brăilean

the old house

inhabited again

weeds

Mirela Brăilean

By David Josephsohn

rippling the pond,

a frog lands

on its reflection

David Josephsohn

By Govind Joshi

falling water

the rock garden

sings

Govind Joshi

By Tuyet Van Do

by the roadside

checking their mailbox

a black bear

Tuyet Van Do

By John J. Dunphy

plenty of kisses

beneath the mistletoe

at our animal shelter

John J. Dunphy

By Katherine E Winnick

winter butterfly

the moon watches

over your flock
 

Katherine E Winnick

By Helen Ogden

my pockets filled

with broken sand dollars

daylight savings

Helen Ogden

By Louise Hopewell

crimson leaves

losing myself in the swirl

of his guitar


Louise Hopewell

 

*

 

winter sun

catching shadows

in her butterfly net

Louise Hopewell

By Mike Gallagher

shamelessly

on power lines

sparrows

Mike Gallagher

 

*

 

winding river

a sluggish snake slithers

along the bank

Mike Gallagher

By Wanda Amos

fuel prices

rocketing

cold moon winter

Wanda Amos

By Kerry J Heckman

as above,

so below

fog


Kerry J Heckman

*
 

winter solstice approaching a bend in the river

Kerry J Heckman

By Mona Iordan

hidden moon

the spreading

wings of a bat

Mona Iordan

By Sreenath

time and again

humanity

ticking like a time bomb

Sreenath

By Eavonka Ettinger

moonflower

mistress of the night

unfurls in white

Eavonka Ettinger

*

delight

in their eyes

shooting stars

Eavonka Ettinger

*

a sharp caw

crow remind me

who is boss

Eavonka Ettinger

Our Touchstone Award Nominations

The second set of Cold Moon Journal nominations for the 2022 Touchstone Awards have been submitted to The Haiku Foundation (for poems published July to December 2022).

Congratulations to these 12 talented poets:

Amrutha Prabhu

Andrew Markowski

Bisshie

Eavonka Ettinger

John J. Dunphy

Keith Evetts (2)

Mike Gallagher

Orrin PréJean

Saumya Bansal

Susan Burch

Tony Williams

Tuyet Van Do

 

Good luck to all!

By Mark Gilbert

today

unlike yesterday

the right kind of snow

Mark Gilbert