Perching on my Roof

 

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:

Shadow of the week:

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Text and photos © 2024 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Splashes in the Birdbath

 

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.

 

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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Text and photos © 2024 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Morning Gold, Silent as Breath

 

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.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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Text and photos © 2024 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

A Gentle, Ancient Heartbeat

 

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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Text and photos © 2024 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Steady and Soft, Damaging and Deadly

 

After weeks of drought,

the rains finally came,

steady and soft.

I sat back and listened to

the soft tap of droplets

showering the windowpane,

the white noise of water boiling

in the kettle,

the gentle creak

of the rocking chair,

whispery gusts of wind,

the hum of the fridge,

the purr of the cat,

the turn of a page,

the distant whir of a jet in flight,

fading into the sound of the rain,

the delicious,

life-giving

rain.

 

This is not

what my friend heard

in North Carolina,

for this same storm system

that brought me sweet,

life-giving rain

wore a wild mood

when it reached her

rushing in a raging torrent,

a damaging, deadly downpour.

In my back yard,

when the rain ended,

the renewed trees dripped,

sated and peaceful.

Birds warbled and chortled,

branch to branch,

tree to tree,

a clear, world-washed song.

 

When the rain ended

in my friend’s back yard,

trees lay uprooted,

muddy floods of river water

swirled and swallowed

tangled branches.

I have to believe that birds

still sang from the tip-top

of whatever withstood the storm—

peaked roofs,

stubbornly strong trees,

a post, a pole,

a precariously tilted sign.

May the birds always sing

their ancient wisdom,

their song of courage,

comfort,

and hope.

-kh-

 

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week:

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Text and photos © 2024 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

One Raucous Love Song

 

When the crow calls,

my heart returns to Texas,

to the prairie where I grew up with

stubby mesquite trees,

prickly pear cactus,

crooked-limbed live oak,

swathes of yellow-green pastureland

rugged cattle,

a wide, wild sky holding

thunderheads miles high,

golden-orange-red sunsets

deepening into velvet-dark,

star studded night sky,

and wind,

always wind,

dry wind,

whistling through power lines,

whipping branches,

bowing grasses,

flapping skirts and shirts,

sweeping dust from here to

who-knows-where,

feathering the feathers of the crow

who is maybe related to

the one outside my open window

now carrying me back

hundreds of miles,

dozens of years

with one raucous

love-song of a

caw.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week (look closely and you’ll see a ladybug):

Shadow of the week:

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Text and photos © 2024 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

A Private Nod

 

The poet’s words, written and flung

into the wildness of my day

became a signpost:

“This is as far as the light

Of my understanding

Has carried me…” she had written*

in an intimate moment of generosity

on the page,

a prompt from someone

I don’t even know,

a private nod,

a poetic nudge

to begin exactly there

and follow the trail where

it would take me;

so I wandered that way—

how far has the light

of my understanding

carried me?

To writing in this room with friends,

the sound of traffic

our rushing river,

the rug beneath us

our grassy meadow,

twinkle lights on steel rafters

the heavens above us,

the rustle of writing papers

a breeze sweeping leaves,

our universe a shelter,

our hearts hurt but

healing,

hopeful.

I close my eyes and see us all

in drifts of moonlight

making our way through stars,

out where peace flows,

for we are meditating.

This—yes, this

is as far as my understanding

has carried me,

and for now,

that is far enough.

-kh-

 

*from “Midlife” by Julie Cadwallader Shaub

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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Text and photos © 2024 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Center Stage

 

For one bright moment

before the sun set,

its spotlight fell full on

three bunches of crape myrtle blooms,

dazzling them to a deep pink blush

as they hung like fancy chandeliers

on gently arced branches

high above the shadowed lawn.

For one bright moment

they took center stage

before the sun eased its beams higher

for its last brilliant gift of the day,

leaving the pink blooms fading into

the settling peace of twilight.

As my birthday came and went this week,

I saw myself in those frilly, full,

gathered blooms,

for it seems that all of life buds

and blossoms

and opens

into full bloom

for one bright moment

before the sun sets.

I am grateful to see,

in the settling twilight,

a beautiful peace.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week:

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Text and photos © 2024 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Making Waves

I think we send out waves—

don’t you?

Not the waggle of a hand

in greeting or going

but unseen waves rippling out

from us into the world.

Call them thoughts,

call them prayers,

call them hopes,

they roll out like a rhythmic tide,

heartbeats set adrift

through invisible currents

all around us to

ebb and flow,

weave and wander

around and between us,

waves of presence unseen,

unbounded

unlimited,

untamed.

Mine meet yours and mingle,

expand the dance.

May they be waves of

grace and goodness,

generosity and joy,

compassion and strength.

May we wash the weary world

with wonder.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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Text and photos © 2024 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved

Ah, the Dahlia

 

In the warming days of spring,

I planted two spidery tubers,

dahlias-to-be.

They soon sent up shoots,

greening, growing,

straight stems,

branching arms,

arrowed, light-veined leaves.

I watched for blooms to form,

for I had forgotten what color

they would be,

and I love the surprise of dahlias.

One bloomed in midsummer,

petals the color of burgundy wine.

The other grew taller,

stretched her leaves,

but gave no sign of blooms.

I made excuses for her.

(I am an expert at excuses,

being a late bloomer myself.)

Maybe it’s the heat, I said.

It’s been awfully hot this summer.

Maybe it’s because she came from

the supermarket, not the nursery.

Maybe I gave her too much water.

Or not enough.

I never know.

The fire-red salvia came and went,

the peppery basil is going to seed,

even the fragrant mint has bloomed.

I began to think this dahlia

would be content to wear green

all her life.

(Late bloomer that I am,

I’ve not outgrown impatience.)

Then, this week,

two blooms uncurled,

unfurled,

creamy peach,

warm blushing joy.

I had forgotten what her name was,

if the package even said.

Some dahlias are named Beauty

or Charlotte

or White Moonlight.

I call this one

Patience,

for that is the wisdom she carries:

Plant beauty, kindness, grace,

she says,

then be at peace,

be

patient.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week:

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Text and photos © 2024 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.