lime tree samaras
a new father lost
in family life
—Marie Derley
samares de tilleul
un nouveau père perdu
dans la vie de famille
—Marie Derley
lime tree samaras
a new father lost
in family life
—Marie Derley
samares de tilleul
un nouveau père perdu
dans la vie de famille
—Marie Derley
“For my days are consumed like smoke.”
A word collector. Every Sunday at dawn. He carries them away in a battered blue van. Just the man who collects them, not those who dispose. However they do. A furnace. A landfill. Each one a snowflake in a winter’s tale. The mystery of rhyme. Hymns like hoar-frost hanging on the trees. The breath of spirits dreams are made on. Puffs of smoke that rise like wisps of larks, whispering to the clouds, twisting to the stars. Blank verse.
abandoned school
chalk dust
the teacher’s words
I was called for a consultation in an intensive care unit, I visit the patient, prescribe tests and say I‘ll return tomorrow to re-evaluate. I'll come back if the patient is still here.
flower stand —
all the lilies
sold
ghost moon
over silent snow
the slow fall
—John Hawkhead
care home register
no one left to talk to
on the winter beach
—John Hawkhead
(Last update, May 16, 2026) Email for submissions: journalcoldmoon(at)gmail(dot)com Editors: Timothy Daly, Oana Cercel. ~~~~ You may submi...