Odd Walking Thoughts – A Walking Chair

We watched the chair walk away and sit. While waiting for the chair to speak, we asked the wall if it cared. The wall opened its large mouth. Listen. You can hear through the window a soft wind. Its anger is mounting behind the softness. Focus what we remember and match. Forget the wall with its mouth; it never witnessed without its eyes. While never caring to speak truth.

copyright 2016 -M. Taggart


Emily Dickinson – Sharing Greatness

It’s a dreary day in New England. I’m winding down my work day and wanted to share an inspiring poem written by one of the best.


“Hope” is the thing with feathers-
That perches in the soul-
And sing the tune without the words-
And never stops – at all –

And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard-
And sore must be the storm-
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm-

I’ve heard it in the chillest land-
And on the strangest Sea-
Yet, never in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of Me.

Final Harvest. Emily Dickinson 63, (254)