Sharon D. Cohagan
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She takes the calendar from the kitchen drawer. It was a free gift from a newly opened dry-cleaners in town. She rips off the front page with the year stamped in bold lettering, tucks it into last year’s calendar, and drops everything into a wastebasket.
The nail in the cupboard wiggles like a wobbly tooth. John had hammered it into the walnut wood despite her strong protesting. It has held a large number of calendars, dating back to self-made ones with baby photographs, kindergarten drawings, and vacation snapshots. Later there were reproductions of famous paintings, a few showing her own watercolors, and the last few years gratis ones from the local newspaper or a charity. She holds her breath as she hangs up the new one, hoping it is not too heavy.
January sheet a deceptive snowy scene since outside it’s gray what good will the new year bring if it starts with such a lie?
About the Author
Sharon D. Cohagan lives in Germany. Two poetry chapbooks were published in 2006 in California. Since 2019 her focus is on Japanese poetry. Her work appears in contemporary haibun online, The Haibun Journal, Drifting Sands Haibun, Under the Basho, cattails, and Autumn Moon Haiku.