Morning time is precious to me. I woke today, thankful for the flow of another day without timelines and rush, rush, rush. Luxuriating in the feel of a weekday morning, while trying to overlook the Sunday-impending-Monday part of it. Leaning into this time for writing. For wandering. For taking pictures. The time when I try to weave a creative life from noticings and wonderings. From dream fragments, the fading glow of moonlight and the blush of dawn. This morning my soundtrack is the gentle gurgle of the coffee pot, the rising chorus of the birds, the tic-tic-tic of the heating radiators, and the stop-and-start soft scrape of my pen on the page.

each dawn
a tinder box
wisps of dreams like forest duff
pen scrapes the page, one spark ignites
a blaze

©Molly Hogan

*Today Alex Price’s daily #CinquainPrompt was blaze.