Time and Love

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Somewhere,
long ago,
I read that the greatest gift we can give
is our time—
our listening ears,
our attentive eyes,
our working,
walking,
watching,
waiting
beside each other.
It seems to me that this is
love,
for love and time touch and tune,
one to the other,
twinned and twined in an eternal dance
to the vibrations of every voice,
chord,
rhythm,
and wingbeat,
every raindrop,
whisper of breeze
and gust of wind,
all measuring time,
all coming,
going,
circling back again and again,
the heartbeat of life,
the hum that is you and me.
If we could see the colors of this interplay,
this pulsing swirl of time and love,
we would see that love
is the stronger stream,
the more vibrant,
filling and freshening our hearts
with the wonder of
beyond,
where love transforms time
so that it’s no longer the measure
of what’s passing
but the majesty
of what always is.
Love folds time into itself and becomes
forever,
forever,
forever.
And isn’t this the greatest gift
we can give to anyone?
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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Autumn on Tiptoe

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Autumn is tiptoeing in
like a child peeking out from backstage,
wondering, Is it time yet?
Is it my turn?
She is halfway here, halfway hidden.
Most leaves are still on the trees,
still green, but tinted gold
as the billowy canopy thins
a drift of leaves here,
a handful tossed there,
skittering and scattering in the whispery breeze.
The Virginia creeper glows in the setting sun
like brilliant orange-red stained glass.
Seed heads in artsy shapes crown lanky stems—
mounds of prickles on coneflowers,
pagodas of basil,
drupes of berries gathering on the crape myrtle.
But the petunias are still happily blooming,
and the impatiens are being prettily patient.
The early-blooming clematis vine
had decided to bloom again
even as its spent blossoms long ago
turned to fuzzy-headed seed pods
fit for a page in a Dr. Seuss book.
Bright yellow marigolds sway like windflowers
atop thin, overlong stems.
They are always ready to replant themselves
from plump cupped, papery pods
brittle and bursting with seeds.
So hello, Autumn.
Welcome.
The stage is set, and it is indeed your turn,
so dance across, full and free.
And take your time before your final bow.
Make Winter wait.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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When Life Calls You Back In Time

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Hello, fellow time traveler.
Where do you go in your thoughts,
in your heart
when life calls you back in time?
Skip past the sadnesses,
the frights, and the wounds.
Where is the glad,
the restful,
the peaceful place,
the day that light filled you,
the day of smiles and laughter,
the curious discovery,
the gasp of awe,
the place of purpose?
These are the pure gold,
the charms to collect,
to string together into a necklace
or a clutch of prayer beads.
Hold onto these, fellow time traveler.
Polish them with gratitude
until they gleam and glow,
for they will light the way
down the path ahead.
-kh-

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Autumn Sunrise

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I rose early on this chilly morning,
and the autumn sun rose late.
Perfect timing, our rising together.
Since we have crossed paths,
the sun and I,
I have paused (for she will not),
and I’m watching her paint the world.
Fiery and free,
ancient and newborn,
fresh and faithful,
this delicious, joy-filled,
silent laughter of first light
warms the world with color.
Morning’s smile
splashes the tops of the turning trees,
sparking their leaves
into flaming reds and yellows.
Liquid light trickles down tree trunks,
flows like a gentle incoming tide
across lawns and down streets,
streams through windows,
floods the floor,
leaves puddles of molten gold.
Dawn’s light is a gracious gift,
generous bright bounty of the universe,
the new day’s silent hum
whispering to the heart
with wordless wisdom,
Here, here,
here’s a new day for you.
Good,
good,
good
morning.
You’re awake,
our paths have crossed,
now it’s your turn
to paint the world with goodness,
with light.
It’s your turn
to step out and
shine!
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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Tiny Green Dragons

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

All summer, a line of tiny green dragons
has been slowly creeping
up the outer wall of my neighbor’s house.
Each dragon, from wing tip to wing tip,
is the width of my outspread hand
and is made of a collection of leaves.
Like a disciplined line of determined ants,
these small, leafy dragons
follow one after the other,
evenly spaced along a tightrope stem.
My mind traces their path
as if my fingers were drawing it—
the angles,
the curves,
the negative spaces,
the quiet climb,
the gentle stretch,
the touch of tendril to red brick
that heats in the sun
and chills in the cool night,
the cling that holds the vine tight
in wind and lashing rain.
A vine is persistently persistent,
tenaciously tenacious,
grasping at the next available surface,
in this case, iron bars of a spiral staircase.
The vine curls around the first bar,
the second,
the third,
follows its shape spiraling upward
to the second floor landing.
There it stops and celebrates this feat
by blooming into orange trumpets
all along the dragon-leaf path,
giving itself to butterflies
and hummingbirds
and me.
A gust of wind
and a scattering of leaves swirl down.
The vine simply shivers
and clings and blooms.
It will soon turn brown and brittle.
The little dragons will let go
and fly away with the wind.
I will witness this wonder,
keep a winter watch,
and wait for spring
when once again,
a line of tiny green dragons
will start their warm-weather journey
up the wall of my neighbor’s house.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, an carry the calm.

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Dreaming Between Photographs

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I sleep between past and future.
On the wide windowsill to one side of my bed,
a single frame holds black and white photos
of my mom and dad, newlyweds,
shortly after World War II.
On the left, Mom stands at the kitchen sink,
apron over her sweater and skirt,
smiling at the camera while
washing a white enameled pot.
On the right, Dad also smiles at the camera.
He wears a suit and bow tie
and sits at a breakfast table,
a cup of coffee in hand,
a newspaper spread before him.
On the windowsill on the other side of my bed,
a single picture frame holds color school photos
of two of my grandchildren, whose mom is Japanese.
Before Dad died at 95,
he pointed out that in the war,
he joined the Navy to fight the Japanese.
Now, here, decades later,
his granddaughter-in-law was from Japan,
two of his great-grandchildren were half Japanese,
and he dearly loved them all.
Who could have predicted it?
I would say the thought blew his mind.
He would simply laugh softly and say,
“Isn’t that something!”

I sleep between that past and future.
I live between that past and future.
I dream between that past and future,
hoping that someday all of us will see each other
with new, clear, gracious eyes
and that fear and anger over our differences
will dissipate like a fog in the sunlight
and we will see each other
with open hearts,
with wonder,
and softly laugh and say,
“Isn’t that something!”
For it really is something.
It’s peace.
It’s joy.
It’s the mystery and brilliance
of love.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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Deep-Night Prowling

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

It’s midnight
when a sound wakes me,
a thud from downstairs.
I listen, alert for a second,
then settle back into my pillow.
I know that sound.
The cat has jumped down from a chair.
Or maybe a counter.
Thud.
Always a perfect landing.
She is a deep-in-the-night prowler.
She snuggles next to me in bed,
our breathing soft and gentle,
but I wake some time later
to realize she’s missing.
She has slipped away to prowl again.
But she’ll be back.
I listen for another bump,
another thud.
All is quiet.
I pull the covers to my chin.
It seems such a little-girl thing to do,
this tucking in,
but my night prowling happens
only when I slip into my dreams.
I breathe easy, trusting that
I’ll be back,
most likely to find
a dozing cat at my side.
-kh-

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I Know Nothing…Except

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I know nothing except
the cat jumps into my lap every evening
and settles in,
purring as if all is right
in her cat-centric world.

I know nothing except
the feel of the pillow beneath my head,
cushioning me,
holding me
for hours on end.

I know nothing except
the mockingbird has somehow decided
that my yard is his,
and the rabbit that lives out back
has claimed what the bird has left open.

I know nothing except
the flavor of dark chocolate
satisfies me in a way
that milk chocolate doesn’t.

I know nothing except
my own heart on this day
is full of roller-coaster feelings,
zig-zag and see-saw
crest the hill,
careen down the other side,
and I know nothing except
the fact that I will hold on
and ride it as long as I possibly can.

I know nothing except
I am here.
I am breathing.
I am feeling.
Deeply feeling.
I am here,
healing and whole.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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Where is the Wake-up Chorus?

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Dawn quietly drifts
into my world this morning.
Too quietly.
I wonder where the usual wake-up chorus is,
the sweet greeting of birdsong.
I make my way outdoors,
but I see no birds.
None at the feeder,
none on the porch rail,
none at the birdbath.
A solo twitter sounds high in an elm.
A sharp chip-chip-chip comes
from a hedge.
A distant crow caws, and then
nothing.
Nothing at all.
I peer up into the morning-blue sky
with its drift of summer clouds.
I’m watching for a hawk.
I don’t see one, but
the songbirds know better than I,
and they seem to have made
a strategic, silent retreat.
I know people who have taken
a silent retreat,
a week or so away from home,
not speaking,
not being spoken to,
resting in silence,
trusting its soft strength,
listening
for the secrets it whispers to the soul.
I’ve never gone on a silent retreat,
although I do welcome silence.
Even so, as I stand here
watching a tiny twig
twirl like a weather vane
as it dangles from a spider web,
I miss the background music
of morning birdsong.
I look upward once again.
The clouds have shifted,
a breeze brushes the treetops.
Through the open spaces
where I can see sky
between branches and thick leaves,
I glimpse a glide of dark wings,
a hawk looking for breakfast.
I close my eyes
and inhale the serenity of the moment.
I will keep quiet with the songbirds.
I will wish them a safe, peaceful
silent retreat.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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Love Holds the Weight

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

My neighbor steps out onto his back porch
holding his baby in the crook of his arm.
She looks around eagerly,
her small arm light on his shoulder.
She is not afraid of falling,
and she won’t, not in his arms.
I’ve held my own children just this way,
so I know this:
She will grow heavier,
holding will become harder,
and falling is inevitable—
but not from his arms.
And when the day comes
when he can no longer pick her up,
his heart will continue to hold her
with an invisible strength, often unnoticed.
This is the wonder of love,
the way we hold each other.
Like air holds clouds aloft,
like the sea holds whales suspended,
like light holds the mystery of years gone by,
our hearts carry each other.
Love expands and makes space.
Love holds the weight it needs to hold.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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Carry the Calm

Karyn Henley

Time and Love

Autumn on Tiptoe

When Life Calls You Back In Time

Autumn Sunrise

Tiny Green Dragons

Dreaming Between Photographs

Deep-Night Prowling

I Know Nothing…Except

Where is the Wake-up Chorus?

Love Holds the Weight