Some arrive like wildflowers. Some stay for a while before they bloom. You can breathe here.
Morning Knows
Morning doesn’t ask
what kept you awake.
It opens anyway—
soft,
grey,
unbothered by your storms.
The trees don’t question
your restless thoughts.
They stand
as if nothing needed fixing.
And somewhere between
the first breath
and the second—
you remember:
not everything that calls you
deserves an answer.
