SNOW by J.R. Solonche

SNOW

The snow started when one flake
landed on my sleeve and stayed
there like a piece of light that had
forgotten how to be infinite. Snow
falls and falls. It doesn’t care about
the property lines. It doesn’t care
about the fact that I haven’t
finished the chores I promised
the autumn I would do. Snow falls
and falls. Soon will the woods
become a white room. Snow falls
and falls and falls, and the earth
yields itself up into the sky’s hands.

*

Nominated for the National Book Award, the Eric Hoffer Book Award, and nominated three times for the Pulitzer Prize, J.R. Solonche is the author of more than 40 books of poetry and coauthor of another. He lives in the Hudson Valley.

After the Radiators Turn On by Elena Rotzokou

After the Radiators Turn On

In the early dark the city is a lung
learning its own weather again—
steam lifting from manholes,
a soft animal breath that fogs the streetlights
into halos you could almost touch.

I walk past the bodegas’ bright fruit,
their oranges stacked like small suns
held in place by netting,
and the florist’s buckets—
tulips sealed in clear sleeves
like letters that won’t open until morning.

Somewhere above me a radiator coughs
and begins its long persuasion,
metal warming to a low hymn.
The pipes talk in ticks and knocks,
a code for staying.

On the corner a man salts the sidewalk
as if he’s blessing it,
white grit scattering like crushed shells.
The salt remembers oceans
even here, even now,
even between brick and subway grates.

At the bus stop, strangers become a little family
without ever looking up:
the shared choreography of shifting weight,
the way we hold our phones like talismans,
the small courtesy of making room
for each other’s coats and breath.

I think about how winter edits everything—
strips the trees down to their sentences,
makes every branch a question
asked in black against the sky.
And still the sparrows persist,
pinpricks of life
stitching noise into the cold.

Later, indoors, I peel off my scarf
and the room smells faintly of wool and heat.
On the windowsill, a glass of water
has gone quiet and perfectly clear,
holding the last light
as if it’s something borrowed.

Then the building settles—
one deep click in the walls—
and the water in the glass shivers,
a thin ring traveling outward
as if a fingertip touched it.

Outside, a siren unspools and thins,
somewhere a door slams,
somewhere a train passes underfoot
and the window gives back a faint tremor.
The light breaks in the water, recomposes—
not mercy, not lesson—
just proof that even stillness
has a pulse.

*

Elena Rotzokou is a writer based in Brooklyn, New York and a PhD student in English and Comparative Literature at Columbia University. Her research focuses on Romanticism, ecocriticism, and the ways poetic form registers environmental change.

Spring Snow by Sally Nacker

Spring Snow

Snow dusts the wood.
Peace resides in April snow.
Birdhouse roofs hold
tufts of snow, and bluebell
buds bow. Stilled,
stilled, the new
beginning of the world.

*

Sally Nacker lives in a small house in the woods of Redding, CT with her husband and two cats. Wild birds are her joy. Recent publishing credits include Canary, ONE ART, Third Wednesday, and The Sunlight Press. Kindness in Winter is her newest collection.

On the White Hill by Sally Nacker

On the White Hill

On the white hill—moonlight
bright on the hemlocks
drooping with snow, bright
on the hill where deer tracks go.

The trees toss their snow
in the wind on the hill,
and the prints vanish now—
one by one, they go.

*

Sally Nacker lives in a small house in the woods of Redding, CT with her husband and two cats. Wild birds are her joy. Recent publishing credits include Canary, ONE ART, Third Wednesday, and The Sunlight Press. Kindness in Winter is her newest collection.

Under the Snow — Under the Sun by Özge Lena

Özge Lena is an Istanbul based writer/poet and English language teacher who has a published novella titled Otopsi (The Autopsy). Also, her short stories appeared in some of the literary magazines in Turkey and her poems in All Female Menu, Seiren Quarterly, and Daily Drunk Mag.

Twitter: @LenaOzge
Instagram: @lenaozge