Cold Moon Journal

Cold Moon Journal
Photo c. Alf B. Meier

Wednesday, February 8, 2023

By Brad Bennett

where the leaf ain't what insects ate

Brad Bennett

By Louise Hopewell

still dawn

frog song bounces

across the billabong

Louise Hopewell

By Reid Hepworth

engulfed

by your negative

storylines

I search for comfort

in the small things


Reid Hepworth

Tuesday, February 7, 2023

By Jenn Ryan-Jauregui

complacent

in their daily affairs

sun and moon

Jenn Ryan-Jauregui

 

*


falling in

and out of love

daisy petals

Jenn Ryan-Jauregui

By Sébastien Revon

walking the new dog

the hill I thought

I knew

Sébastien Revon

Monday, February 6, 2023

By Kimberly Kuchar

day moon

changing out the flowers

on your grave

Kimberly Kuchar

By Diana Teneva

a dandelion…

long-forgotten secrets

in the silence


Diana Teneva

Sunday, February 5, 2023

By Barrie Levine

service dog

guarding

my inner silence

Barrie Levine


*

 

before plastic the velvet edge of sea glass

Barrie Levine

By Pippa Phillips

dwindling twilight

the silence eats

a cicada


Pippa Phillips

 

*

 

doomscrolling—

the green

of an unwitnessed tree


Pippa Phillips

By David Josephsohn

kitchen drawer

the clanging of knives

sharpens my appetite

David Josephsohn


*

 

tornado warning

the winds laugh

at our intrusion

David Josephsohn

Saturday, February 4, 2023

By Susan Burch

braying donkey I make an ass of myself

Susan Burch


*

 

King Arthur camped out on my couchalot

Susan Burch

By Mona Bedi

wayward wind

learning to be

indifferent

Mona Bedi

By Bisshie

snowflakes at midnight

the wino warms his hands

over the oil drum

Bisshie

By Mirela Brăilean

transfusion

all these unknown

blood brothers


Mirela Brăilean

Friday, February 3, 2023

By Herbert Shippey

floorboards creak

the house settles

into old age


Herbert Shippey

By Maya Daneva

New Year’s covid

measuring my fever

for first time

Maya Daneva

 

*


Father’s Day

thinking of the kidney donor

of my father


Maya Daneva

By Gerald Friedman

morning glory flowers

die in a day

but those from stems trimmed off

tossed in the shade

last and last.

Gerald Friedman