TINY SEED LITERARY JOURNAL

  The sun tightens her flush kerchief around snow and sky, an inseparable bond. I wake to the thought of you, I sleep under your peaceful watch trusting the throat…

Persephone Was she always like a moth against the flame desperate to get back to day, to planting season, held below against her will, tear-streaked prisoner on her underground throne?…

Photograph by anne richardson anne richardson primarily is a poet though her recent passion includes photography. She believes in inviting images (asking them permission) into her camera or iPhone. That…

Photograph by anne richardson anne richardson primarily is a poet though her recent passion includes photography. She believes in inviting images (asking them permission) into her camera or iPhone. That…

For me, a seizure is a timeless event. I don’t mean timeless in the sense that it is classic, to be lasting over decades; I mean that the seizure itself…

Poem by Carol Wolf   Carol Wolf is a graphic designer and fine artist living in northern New Jersey. She received her BFA from the School of Art at The…

My father believed in flowers. Winter winds blew away the petals. Broke the seed pods open. His body feeds a garden now One that waits for the sun’s return.  …

Photo by Martha Nance Martha Nance is a physician in Minnesota who blows the dust off the camera lens every summer to look at the world around her.

  Step away from your heart. Let it rest a season, a year, more. As long as it takes. Let its soil rest. Become fallow. Let rain come. Then snow.…

Witch Brooms Some of us will not make it, expire singing the same chord with rattled tongues but don’t worry, we’ve signed our wills burned our love letters— water locust…

  Poem by Lou Storey   "The Why of Trees" speaks to both estrangement for family as a gay man, as well as the healing that nature provides. Writer, artist,…

go there there is nothing left but torn wrappings the smiles have faded the hoopla has changed the fire burned out the ashes are cold there is nothing left ……………………..…

  Photo by Gwynneth Green Gwynneth Green uses the camera and the written word to create Photo Musings, merging text within image inviting the viewer closer inspection that provides a…

Jessi sat contentedly in Jake Nez Winter’s warm, quiet presence as he drove into mustang country on the road that would get her closest to where she’d last seen a…

Silence of the season: birds have fled, insects froze, frogs buried themselves in mud. Wind in bare branches, grasses rustling sounds. Time of change, seasons turning from growth to rest…

Carefully emerging from social seclusion we join the ranks of world famous hibernators _______hedgehogs, wood frogs, _______turtles, snakes, snails, _______bumblebees, bats and bears fellow creatures that innately understand the when…

The shadow shape in front of me looks almost normal, walking afternoon roads. Arms, almost shapely. Body, almost proportional. None of that pear-shaped loping; this seems almost a jaunt. My…

A winter-dried branch snapped as I walked to the creekside with my mother. She wore her waders and rubber gloves and had already begun her study; patiently, she sifted for…

When the sun called me to worship I stood alone near the oak tree legs, roots reaching down leaves, skin soaking in sustenance and relished what was soft what was…

I wonder how the green frog feels at the end of winter, buried in mud under a waterbody, body diffused with glucose so that crystals cannot form to pierce a…

DELIVERANCE welcome deliverance into darkness in spite of dread come outside beneath a new moon if there is a candle—blow it out sit with the absence. stand before the cold…

Photo filter High contrast evening Palest pink laurels against khaki brown bark Light and lime and blue green leaves Starkly verdant Contradicting deepest black shadows Light against dark Life against…

I am Kaaryla, a tiny possum, at the risk of appearing glib, this is my story.  Back in a time of Dreaming, I was a victim of a vindictive spirit.…