# The Gentle Hour #

A calm poem that reveals the peacefulness of a morning in the park. It talks about being present, accepting things, and gently letting go of burdens—where nature helps us learn to release.

# The Gentle Hour #

In the morning,
when the sky opens up
and the clouds smile,
life begins to make sense.

In the park,
I feel at peace.

There’s a quiet agreement in that hour—
between breath and breeze,
between trembling leaves
and something unnamed inside me
finally whispering.

In the park, time forgets its urgency.
Benches hold stories without asking,
and the earth, still damp with dawn,
whispers, you can be still too.

I begin to notice—
not just the bloom, but the fragrance,
how even the smallest petal
has wrestled its way
to greet the sun.

Bliss isn’t loud here.
It doesn’t announce itself—
it hums low, like a distant song
that is felt by heart.

And so I pause—
not because I must,
but because something within me
finally wants to stay.

There are roses, yes—
and thorns, unapologetic as ever—
but today, I don’t measure the wound.
I trace the softness instead,
let beauty have the final word.

The air is still, but not empty—
it holds me gently,
like a thought that refuses to rush.

And then the rain comes—
not as a storm, but as a quiet release,
each drop a small forgiveness
falling from the sky.

And I watch—
not holding on,
not chasing after—

as everything heavy
finds its way downward,

as my worries
learn how to leave.

(Vijay Verma)
 www.retiredkalam.com



Categories: kavita

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20 replies

  1. very nice .

    Liked by 3 people

  2. Love this! Morning is my best time to feel at peace also.

    Liked by 3 people

    • That’s really lovely to hear 😊🙏

      There’s something special about mornings—the quiet, the soft reset of everything, like the world hasn’t quite rushed into itself yet. It makes sense it feels peaceful for you.

      Liked by 2 people

  3. There’s a softness in this that doesn’t feel forced.

    That “quiet agreement” you’ve described… between breath, breeze, and something internal… that’s exactly how those early hours feel when you actually slow down enough to notice them. You didn’t try to make it grand, and that’s what makes it work. It feels observed, not constructed.

    It also made me think how rarely we allow ourselves that kind of pause anymore. Even when we’re in places like a park, we carry urgency with us. But what you’ve written here reminds you that stillness is something you step into, not something that just happens.

    You’ve kept it simple, but there’s a calm depth running through it. It’s the kind of piece that quietly pulls you back to yourself without trying too hard.

    Liked by 2 people

    • That really means a lot—thank you.

      I think you’ve captured something I wasn’t fully aware of while writing it… that sense of “stepping into” stillness rather than waiting for it to arrive. It’s strange how rare that has become, even in the very spaces meant for it.

      Liked by 2 people

  4. Ohhh really! Well, the credit goes to your writing ✍️ that make me see things from a different angle every time!

    Liked by 2 people

    • Haha, I’ll take that compliment—but I’m not stealing your credit that easily 😄
      You created the moment, I just helped put words to it.

      If anything, it says you already had that depth in your perspective… sometimes it just takes a slightly different lens to notice it. And honestly, that’s the fun part—turning ordinary scenes into something that feels meaningful.

      Liked by 2 people

  5. Great poem. Morning can be such a peaceful time, and there’s a lot to be said for just noticing. You said it well.

    Liked by 1 person

    • That’s really kind of you to say 🙂
      There’s something special about mornings—the way everything feels a little quieter, a little softer, like the world hasn’t fully rushed into itself yet. And in that space, even simple noticing starts to feel meaningful.

      Liked by 2 people

  6. A beautifully serene piece your words capture stillness in a way that feels lived, not just described. The gentle flow, especially “each drop a small forgiveness,” lingers long after reading. Quiet, reflective, and deeply soothing.

    Liked by 1 person

    • That’s a really thoughtful reading of it—and honestly, that line “each drop a small forgiveness” was meant to feel like that slow emotional release, where things don’t get solved loudly, they just… soften.

      I like what you said about “lived, not just described.” That’s the sweet spot in writing—when it stops being an observation and starts feeling like memory.

      Liked by 2 people

  7. “An evocative tribute to the restorative power of stillness, beautifully capturing that fleeting moment where the morning air becomes a sanctuary for both the spirit and the senses.”

    Liked by 2 people

    • That’s a really beautifully phrased reflection 🙂

      You’ve captured something essential there—the idea that stillness isn’t empty, it’s alive, just in a quieter register. Those early moments of the day often feel like a soft reset, where the mind hasn’t fully tightened into its usual patterns yet, and everything feels a bit more spacious.

      Liked by 1 person

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