Poem

I guess I’m lucky like that.
I can find happiness in the
dropping of a pine cone.

In the city. In the woods.
From the edge of my office chair.
In a crowded pub with a corner window.
A book in hand, and there I am,
lucky enough to raise my eyes.

-M. Taggart

Poem-

Indignation is no trip to solidarity.
No prized, or treasured fellowship,
while fixed on the wayward ego-
Into the wind we go, where there’s
an unending expanse to listen if willing.

-M. Taggart

I struggle with titles. If you have one for this, I’d like to hear from you.

Poem-

I had little, we were poor
walked across the road
and down the banking

and fished

I wasn’t good at fishing
my brother was

talked about ferns
and about how to
get stuck in mud
or about how to walk
in the brook

nobody talked about
how to help yourself
when you’re nearly gone

having little was
fine, great even

I didn’t realize
I was about to be gone

-M. Taggart

Pros

Ecstasy begins one compromise at a time;
Without this ability one will never experience
true happiness, only a matrix of self-doubt
layered with hidden meanings.

-M. Taggart

smallish, simple things.

Expect a large, “Hello,” from the sky today. That’s how it is. How it works. There’s no one person who knows other than the self, wishing to see what’s given from a simple gust of wind; lifting the ever floating leaf, closer to its destination, just beyond the reach of your outstretched arms as you look above to receive the day’s welcome.

-M. Taggart

poem

Sometimes I don’t want to write
and I do anyway
The voices are different
The walls are the same
and not, too
Doesn’t much matter
I’ll always write
and the walls
will always be there

-M. Taggart