My mind is drifting this morning
It’s dark and raining outside
I don’t mind that it’s drifting
With the falling rain
but I know it’s happening
And it’s fine really
-M. Taggart
Sent from my iPhone
Tag: Early Morning
Yellow Dawn
Just as the yellow dawn creeps through
the curtains, thoughts roam freely
before being locked away once again
in secret chambers of self
-M. Taggart
Sent from my iPhone
Dreamscape
It sings with the birds
Early in the morning
Lurking and churning
With the wind, inching closer
To your sleeping self
Finally entering
Through your parted lips
Without sound-
Only your dream noticed
-M. Taggart
Sent from my iPhone
shadowed moon – poem
One glorious morning the shadowed moon
allowed us to listen to the footsteps of
tomorrow-
Leading us to believe
Once again
Gone Fishing – Flash Fiction
The birds chirped. It was 4:07 AM. He knew his grandfather was up and double checking their fishing gear. Rods, life vests, water, tackle, bait, and extra gas. He could see in his mind his grandfather’s large hands patting each item as he checked them off. He’d wear a slightly grim look, almost worrisome, but when done his face would relax.
The sheets were warm where he lay. He stretched his legs and let one foot breach and enter the morning air. He liked the crisp feeling. It felt as though his foot was detached from his body. He pushed the blankets off. He could smell coffee and bacon. Soon eggs would be frying and they would eat a good breakfast. Then, they would take the drive to the lake, put the boat in the water, and fish until noon.
-M. Taggart
Flash Fiction – Welcome Morning
Her bare back was beautiful. Dark hair crossed her forehead to her shoulders and down. Further even. She was asleep. He wanted a drink. If he made it without sound he’d be fine. If she woke, it would be too soon. He poured the whisky on top of the ice. Then he poured the sweet vermouth. He mixed the drink with his finger. It was eight am. The sun had been up and he’d hoped to been on a walk by now. She hadn’t yet woken and she breathed so quietly he wasn’t sure she was alive. The drink was smooth feeling going down his throat. He’d make egg sandwiches for both of them. He’d use the cast iron because it looked the best when in use. If he did it right he’d be able to display breakfast on the bed before her eyes opened. It’s possible he’d be on his second. He’d also make her one. Then they could both enjoy the morning when the morning was what it was suppose to be.
-M. Taggart
A Poem
Each morning light-
Wishes – while first among the trees-
To be seen – then to be loved-
Copyright -M. Taggart 2016
An Early Morning – Flash Fiction
Outside was damp and the sun wasn’t yet up. He could hear a few of the men walking toward the lake, heading out early. He listened as the leaves were crushed underfoot. The smell of butter melting on the iron skillet filled him with a moment of joy because the eggs were now blistering in places and the slices of steak were browning. He used his knife to drop more butter in and placed muffins, face down, in between the eggs and steak. Using a towel, he gripped the skillet handle and tipped it first toward him and then away to let the grease mix with the butter and drain under the muffins and collect on the sides of them in the places where the grease and butter could not go underneath.
Soon he would wake the boy and they would eat. And then they would be the ones crushing leaves underfoot.
Ocean Early
There’s something about early morning and the ocean.
This morning, I drove to the corner market place after realizing I was out of coffee filters. I was early; the store wasn’t yet open. I drove another three minutes to the jetty. The light was nice and I fought with my broken phone to take this picture. I thought others might like to see.
Cheers-
mtaggartwriter 