I am currently collecting submissions for the Sunday Mornings at the River 2027 Diary, a poetry agenda built around the seasons. I am looking for poems that sit inside a season, not poems that mention one in passing. Spring, summer, autumn, winter. The heat, the rot, the frost, the first green thing. I want the body in the weather, not the weather as backdrop.
Send me the poems only you could write about the season that shaped them.
Please check the boxes below so that your submission is spot on.