The Quiet Hour by Laurel D. Rund

 

The Quiet Hour: A Reflection in Image and Word

Sometimes an image won’t leave me—it lingers quietly in my mind, asking to be brought into form. That’s what happened here. Long before the words arrived, I saw the essence of this piece taking shape: a feeling, a vision, something unspoken but persistent. So I followed it, letting the artwork lead the way.

Only after creating the image did the words begin to flow. Not forced, but gently—like they had been waiting for the right moment to speak. Together, the art and the poem hold something reflective, something real. A moment of stillness. A glimpse of what lives beneath the surface of everyday life.

I share it with you from that place of quiet knowing. May it meet you gently, and offer a pause to reconnect with your own inner rhythm.

With heart,

Laurel Diane

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An empty chair.

An open umbrella.

The last light of day spilling across the sand.

Footprints have faded.

The shore is still.

Only the hush of waves—

the soft breath of evening.

The moment stretches wide,

steeped in timelessness.

The chair invites reflection, not rest—

a pause to witness,

to wonder,

to simply be.

Where did the day go?

What remains unspoken?

What waits to rise in the silence?

As the sun drifts toward the horizon,

time loosens its grip.

And for one breathless moment,

nothing more is needed.

Laurel D. Rund

As I Walk Into This Day by Laurel D. Rund

 

The morning greets me with a hush, a shimmer, and a path bathed in light.

I step forward not with answers, but with presence.

The garden does not ask anything of me—

it simply offers its colors, its warmth,

its quiet knowing.

Every flower, every leaf leans toward the sun as if to say,

“You belong here.”

The light streaming through the trees feels like a blessing from the earth itself,

as though nature is gently encouraging me to begin again.

I breathe it in.

Not everything needs to be solved today.

Some days are meant for noticing—

the curve of a petal,

the softness of air,

the way hope hides in plain sight.

With each step, something within me softens.

The beauty around me seeps inward,

quietly nudging me back to wholeness.

I walk slowly, letting the moment unfold.

There is grace in this stillness—

a kind of remembering.

I am alive.

I am becoming.

I am being renewed.

Laurel D. Rund

4/10/2025