Poetic Bipolar Mind

The Fleeting Peace of Morning

Kiana Jimenez

September 28, 2025

How can mornings be so still, so kind?

The sun rises from its hiding place,

Yawns across the trees, its warmth aligned,

As birds sing praises, filling empty space.

No voices echo in the air today.

Not even laughter, just a quiet tune.

The peace that holds this early hour at bay,

Will soon be lost beneath the midday swoon.

As time moves on, the calm will start to break,

The rush of life will drown out nature’s song.

The sun will run, the wind will cease to wake,

And night will rise where shadows now belong.

The darkness hums with voices I don’t know,

A language foreign, rising with the breeze.

We lie in wait for morning’s gentle glow,

A peace unpromised, whispered on the trees.

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