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

poem

To be identified is to be seen-
No matter how many days combine
into weeks, years, and more,
our small goals to be discovered by appropriate eyes
are not so small. And the trees that weep
over lost seeds are weeping for the joy
and love growing all around them.

-M. Taggart