The Moon was Half

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

The moon was half tonight,
a white porcelain bowl perched
on a thin shelf of hackberry branches
brushing the night sky.
I wanted to reach out,
to cup it in my palms like
a bowl of soup
or an extra large cocoa.
I wanted to drink from it
a magical sweet moonlight.
Surely it would be smooth,
deliciously moon flavored,
a taste that only those who’ve sipped
the milk of the moon would know.
It would satisfy and warm with wonder,
make the eyes sparkle,
make the smile serene.
A child would notice and ask,
“Why are you so happy?”
and I would answer, “Ah,
it’s because the moon
was half tonight,
and I am full to overflowing.”
–kh–

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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What the Wind Brought

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

In my lap, the cat pricked her ears,
glanced over her shoulder
at the sound of a leading wave
of a sea of wind
splashing its way through the trees
in a gusty rush of chilled air,
a cold front—
or as we used to say in Texas,
a Blue Norther.
The cat sighed and cozied in
as if to say, “And so it starts.”
And so it did.
Bits of leaves and seeds
hit the window glass,
the wind chime sang,
the warm room turned cold,
drafty,
and the Blue Norther blew.
“Watch!” its breathy whisper whirled,
“Soon you will wake up to see
roofs powdered with frost.”
Years ago,
on one wall of Grandmother’s kitchen
there hung a picture of a red-cheeked elf
carefully torn from a magazine—
Jack Frost waving a twig wand
working his fairy magic.
Through spring,
through summer,
through autumn he waited there
until his own happy season rolled around,
and then he reigned.
So as the cat snuggled in
and I listened to wild waves of wind,
I knew that his season had come.
And sure enough—
as Grandmother would say—
sure enough the next morning,
when I looked out my cold-paned window,
I saw the world frosted icy white,
glittering in morning sunlight,
and I knew that during the night,
Jack Frost had passed by.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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Peace, They Insist

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

A trio of peace lilies stands tall
at my back window.
Raindrop-shaped upper leaves
curve over pebbled flower stalks
like hands gently cupping a candle
to protect it from a draft.
I imagine these upper leaves
shielding these symbols of peace
from today’s blast of bad news,
war and destruction,
hunger and hurt,
clenched fists, bared teeth,
faces distorted with anger.
How can these flowers stand quietly
proclaiming peace, peace, peace
in such a time of tension?
And yet they do, and they have.
Year after year,
decade after decade,
in calm, in turbulence,
peace lilies have stood tall in our world.
Today’s sunlight drifts in,
glows through dark lower leaves
and light upper leaves
translucent as stained-glass windows.
Peace, the lilies insist,
sharing their ancient wisdom,
and I see that peace is many-layered.
I cannot wave a wand and win world peace.
I cannot change minds and hearts
of those who hold tight to hatred.
I cannot control the uncontrollable.
But the inner layer of peace
is heart deep.
I can cup my own flame,
maybe yours too.
Maybe we can shield each other
from the cutting wind.
Maybe we can be translucent,
let the light glow through us.
Maybe we can stand tall for peace.
It’s said that often,
in the wild,
peace lilies grow in colonies.
I will stand alone if I have to,
but I believe we are a colony.
I am looking beyond my back window.
I’m aiming to grow
and glow
peace
in the wild.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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The Joy in Waiting

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

My backyard neighbor is building a house
at the back corner of his yard.
It’s smaller than an apartment,
larger than a tool shed.
He climbs, bends,
measures, hammers.
Slowly it’s taking shape,
walls framed,
roof beams pitched just so,
a glass door on the far side,
windows all around,
lots of windows.
Is it a greenhouse?
A woodworking shop?
An office for himself
or his wife?
Maybe in his retirement,
he has taken up painting
or sculpting.
Maybe this is his studio.
I could ask,
but I think the joy will be in waiting,
wondering,
seeing how it turns out.
I once told a watercolor teacher
that I was disappointed in my painting
because it hadn’t turned out
the way I had envisioned.
She said, “If it turned out
the way you thought it would,
what’s the point?”
Ah.
The point is in the process,
in the trying,
in the discovery.
Still, I know my neighbor has a plan,
and I hope what he’s building
will turn out the way he wants.
As for me,
I’ll wait and see.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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Merry, Gold, and Peppery Sweet

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

It’s warm for mid-November.
The lacework branches of
elm, poplar, and hackberry
still hold half their leaves,
and marigolds still bloom in the pot
beside my back door.
A bee visits the merry, gold,
peppery-sweet blossoms,
forages in the rich center of each.
Years ago, the entire front garden
of a house I lived in
was planted in marigolds.
On the sidewalk bordering the garden,
my first child took his first steps.
So, dear marigold,
you are merry,
you are golden,
and you may be a bee’s lunch,
but you’ll always mean first steps to me.
You will always make me smile.

– kh –

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I Imagined Fog Drifting In

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Steep narrow stairs spiraled up

past a small kitchen and parlor,

past even smaller bedrooms

on the upper floors.

At the top of the lighthouse,

I stepped out onto a walkway

circling the towering lens.

Fresh breeze,

choppy waves,

a clear sky all the way

from hazardous coast to horizon.

I imagined fog drifting in,

wild waves crashing,

night falling.

I imagined sailors

squinting through a foggy night,

cresting a wave,

sliding into a trough,

land somewhere near–

but where?

Then a glint of light.

It comes again.

Here I am,

the lighthouse signals,

through the fog,

in the night,

I am standing,

I am shining,

I am here,

and you will find your way.

If you are sailing rough seas,

watch for lighthouses.

They are there.

If you are on solid ground,

keep standing,

keep shining,

take care of your flame,

for someone is squinting,

watching and waiting

for glimmers of hope

in the fog.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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Perching on my Roof

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I have a mockingbird—

for how long, I don’t know;

he is free to come and go

but, for now, perches on my roof

outside my window

running through his repertoire

in all the bird-languages,

as if he has decided one song

is not enough to express

his ecstatic heart,

so he weaves tunes end to end,

high and low,

lilting and liquid,

warbled and chirped,

a celebration of sound

dancing through my open window,

waking me to this one day.

Tomorrow, he may be on another roof,

regaling no one in particular,

for he needs no audience,

he would sing at the top of his little lungs

even if no one was listening.

But today, I am listening,

pausing in the early stillness

to hear this songster

dressed in stately gray,

serenading my morning

with flowing melodies

flung freely into the breeze.

Whatever the day may bring,

my mockingbird has already

sung the sweetness into my world.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week – my azaleas are blooming again:

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Splashes in the Birdbath

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Rain has come at last,

a slow, soil-soaking rain

welcomed by wilting asters

drooping marigolds

and me.

Each droplet dimples

the water in the birdbath,

each splash makes small-bird waves

that ripple out and overlap the others.

Another ripple, unseen but real,

touches and tugs me today,

a ripple of friends

who gathered last night,

an assortment of artists

soul-touched by

the grace of nonjudgment,

the freedom to discover

the art in ourselves,

to discover ourselves in our art.

A first splash rippled out years ago,

found us, overlapped us,

sent our own ripples circling wider.

Everyone washes the world

in waves that widen and overlap.

May our waves be full of

goodness and grace

to restore,

to renew hope,

to refresh

our thirsty world.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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Morning Gold, Silent as Breath

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

She is such an artist, the sun.

I watched her rise today,

a brilliant yellow-orange backdrop

to the dark green silhouette

of the neighbors’ bamboo.

Her morning gold, silent as breath,

spreads wide,

slides between cane and leaf,

creates a shape-shifting mosaic,

light and dark,

shadow and shine.

She shoulders higher up the sky

with wise warmth,

quietly whitening thin-stretched clouds

feathered across the high, icy blue.

She is just getting started,

for the whole world is her canvas,

and she takes her time,

for she has all the time in the world.

Her fluid beauty ebbs and flows

as shade and light flirt,

drift,

slow dance,

weaving magic into the day,

sparking autumn-touched treetops

into gold and copper leaf-flames.

She is angling now to give us

her brightest and best

even as the days shorten and cool.

I will watch her paint this day.

I will watch her dance with shadow.

And maybe I, too,

will dance.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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A Gentle, Ancient Heartbeat

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I’ve said it before,

but I’m growing old,

so I get to say it again:

I love to listen to the quiet.

When I listen to the quiet,

I realize it’s not quiet at all.

It’s not empty,

it’s full,

thrumming,

pulsing,

breathing,

the gentle, ancient heartbeat

of life,

of time,

perhaps of the universe itself.

It’s buoyant, this quiet,

full of energy—

a calm forever energy

holding,

enfolding us all.

Shhh.

Pause,

linger,

listen.

Listen

to the quiet.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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Carry the Calm

Karyn Henley

The Moon was Half

What the Wind Brought

Peace, They Insist

The Joy in Waiting

Merry, Gold, and Peppery Sweet

I Imagined Fog Drifting In

Perching on my Roof

Splashes in the Birdbath

A Gentle, Ancient Heartbeat