Sunday mornings lighten the heart.
It wasn’t always like this,
but has somehow found itself
nestled in place with the morning dew
and first glimpse of sunrise.
Through the New England mountains,
covered in forests, and lined with old rock walls
long ago forgotten and found again;
like a palpitating mind, not full of fear,
but of growth and hunger having transferred
any heaviness of chest to logic of the mind.
-M. Taggart
Good morning, everyone.
Nice piece, well written, beautiful, I feel this! 🍀 – Mentje
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Thank you. I’m glad to know that it landed well with you.
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I wish to arrive at such a state of mind, man. And i appreciate how you write about.
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Thank you. Maybe you’ll arrive there next Sunday morning.
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