Another five minute writing exercise*, based on the Tale Weaver prompt 201: morning.

“This week I am asking you to consider the concept of morning.

For some of us, it is a welcome sight, for others the complete opposite.

What does morning mean to you?

Do you have a morning story?

Your response can be a true reflection or a piece of fantasy.”

I sit at the computer, close my eyes and go. What comes out is unedited, raw. Sometimes I share, sometimes I don’t. The opening line became a Mobius loop. I needed to expel this from my brain, so my mind can wander elsewhere.

Orange-tipped talons of dawn snatch moon from sky; scratch out starscape.

Both sides have been waiting, breath held, unable to sleep, to dream.


To whatever gods they hold sacred.

I have grown old on the battlefield.

I no longer look up for absolution or courage.

Lines are formed: ragged, jagged; military precise.

It matters not when the canons spew death.

The bayonets skewer.

The axe breaks shield and arm.

Arrow finds the heart.

Bombs blast tanks and body armour.

Mushrooming mortality.

We stand to attention.

For generals, commanders

a million miles away.

Always ready.

For at dawn,

we attack.

image: © Lorraine

*I have tried to incorporate at least 5 minutes of creative writing into my day using prompts, or thoughts that pop in and out of the sieve I call a brain.