The Surprise of a Simple Morning Prayer

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

A woman I admire,
whose wisdom runs deep,
said she greets each dawn
with prayers of gratitude.
My heart heard
and hummed an old hymn,
though I remembered
only one verse:
“For the beauty of the earth,
for the beauty of the sky . . .”
And now, like a fresh spring,
this prayer of thanks bubbles up
to meet me every morning
when I wake.
Then, last week,
a second verse surfaced:
“For the beauty of each hour
of the day and of the night . . .”
It danced in my daydreams,
nudged me at noon,
twined around me at twilight:
“the beauty of each hour.”
Each hour.
Each.
Hour.
It was a whispered invitation to ask,
Where is the beauty in this hour,
this hour right here, right now?
A window opened in my soul,
welcomed me to watch dawn drift in,
to savor the first bite of blueberries,
to look up from washing dishes,
feel silky suds slide slowly off my hands,
smell lavender-clean dish soap.
It challenged me to pause
once in a while during each day
and ask,
What is the beauty of this hour?
And the next.
And the next.
Which opens the door
to the beauty of this day,
this week,
this month,
this year,
hour after hour of finding beauty
until a simple morning prayer of thanks
turns into a lifetime of gratitude.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Silent Conversation

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

On a shelf in my kitchen
sit two pieces of art
created by my grandson,
one a painting in bright acrylic
swoops and curves
of red and dark blue
with one bold yellow line
across the top
dancing up and down
in roller coaster fashion.
The other piece is less-permanent,
black and white sand
sandwiched between glass panes.
Turned and shaken,
it has settled into shapes
that zig and zag into white peaks
and swoop down into dark drifts.
The two pieces share similar shapes,
the lines and angles of one
flowing across the space between them
to circle back like an echo,
to reach out like a handshake,
to nod in silent conversation.
The bold yellow, red, and blue
sings of Mardi Gras,
all flowing ribbons, feathers, and scarves,
loud and proud and dancing free
while the black and white sand
is as staid as a winter mountain,
as elegant as a tuxedo at a wedding,
as formal as a ballroom waltz.
The black and white is a soaring symphony.
The bold color is reggae.
They are not alike
and yet they are.
Each fills its space with rhythm,
each falls and rises in waves.
But the best thing they have in common
is that they were both created
by the same young hands.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Wishes and Hopes

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I’m dreaming a dream,
wishing a world of childlike wonder,
hoping to recover the love of
blowing bubbles,
blowing out candles,
blowing fallen blossoms,
blowing dandelions,
the deep down delight of discovery—
butterflies, crickets, ladybugs, beetles,
the scent of rain,
the magic of the moon in the morning,
fireflies rising to treetops at dusk,
treetops dancing, brushing the stars,
feathering the clouds.
I’m dreaming a dream,
wishing a world of childlike wonder,
hoping to recover the love of
smooth flowing rivers,
fountains that glint in the sun,
sunsets that stream a surprise of colors.
Dreaming, wishing, hoping,
I face the fog of a future
that’s unknowable,
unmapped,
untapped.
I stand
between now and what’s next,
musing on the mystery
of the drifting mist ahead,
watching the future’s delicate fog
weave its wonder.
Take the step, it whispers.
Into where? I ask. Into what?
I hesitate, uncertain,
but uncertain steps
become solid as they’re taken,
the fog clears at my pace,
and I carry a compass
of wishes and hopes
held in heartbeats and footsteps,
in cupped hands and deep breaths.
Wishes and hopes,
hopes and wishes.
I dream of a world without fear,
open and grateful and hopeful,
pure and whole and holy
and deeply wise like a child
who dares to dance and dream.
If I dream in my part of the world
and you dream in yours,
if our hopes and wishes hold hands
and we work to make it so,
then maybe someday,
our dreams and hopes and wishes
will come true.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Spring’s Last Dance

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Spring has grown sultry.
She is ready to retire,
to cede her scepter to summer.
But a week of her reign remains,
so she is still supervising her season,
sending signals that Spring, early or late,
renews the world again and again.
She began by sweeping away
the wilds of winter,
dancing fresh life into the year—
fresh color
fresh birdsong,
fragrant drifts of blooming perfume.
Even this week,
as summer taps on her shoulder,
Spring still dazzles us with generous gifts.
From the bluebird box
full-feathered fledglings emerge,
flighty, fluttery,
new to this whole bubbling, burbling,
babbling world,
chirping and hungry,
open-mouthed and waiting to be fed.
Young flickers forage on their own,
find the suet,
hesitate,
taste,
dart away,
return.
A little finch bumps the back window,
falls and sits stunned for a while,
then flies to rest in a pot of sunflowers.
At last, with a brave leap,
she wings her way up, up, up
high into an elm.
Below in the petunias,
a small dove settles,
soft gray with dark, watchful eyes
peering around vivid pink petals.
Spring’s reign is one of hope,
and though she will soon take her bow,
she leaves us with new life and growth
and a promise to return next year
to waltz us out of winter
and wake the sleeping world
once again.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Inside a Dusky Moment

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

As I take out the trash this evening,
a cool breeze whispers,
Wait.
Wait.
Wait.
I pause in the shadow-darkened dusk
and find myself
inside a majestic moment of time
that usually slips past unnoticed,
that moment when,
like a silent waterfall,
evening slides over the edge of day
into the deep pool of night.
Wait.
Wait.
Overhead two pinpoints of light
sail the sea of dark space.
One is a plane skimming the sky,
the other lies at anchor, steady and still,
a planet, first to appear
among the stars tonight.
Wait.
Wait.
Other lights, smaller,
more down-to-earth
begin to blink,
fireflies starting their slow dance
among the pines and English ivy.
One firefly glides an invisible path
in front of me,
winking a slow welcome.
Another hovers nearby
flashing a pot of pink petunias.
Then both slide away quietly, easily
through the darkness.
Night bugs sing their silvery song,
and the cool night breeze whispers,
Peace.
I tiptoe down the porch steps.
The trash goes into the bin.
I don’t think I have ever been grateful
for the chore of taking out the trash.
But tonight,
tonight,
I am.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

A Moment of Footprints

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I saw you from the back porch
where I sat in my rocking chair,
you on the beach beside the lake
taking your time,
lining up toys.
The line was long
and you were strong
for such a little boy,
barefoot and tan,
footprints dimpling the sand,
placing a dump truck here, just so,
setting a sandy horseshoe beside it,
turning shovel and pail upside down.
Who knows where this line will go?
I suspect even you don’t know,
running here and there,
gracing the beach with each toy,
each rock,
each block of wood
tossed aside by the teenager who cut the lawn.
The wood is of no use to him,
but to you it’s a treasure.
I saw it all from where I sat
in the rocking chair on the back porch
years ago.
That moment made footprints
in the sand of my memory.
It is of no use to you,
but to me, it’s a treasure.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Daydrift

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Morning came like a gentle hug today,
sunrise shadowed by low clouds,
rain sprinkling window screens,
spattering the panes,
showering softly,
soothing my unsettled soul.
Morning came like a gentle hush,
a nudge to linger in the lull
between sleeping and waking,
to rest in the dimness of dawn,
to let this day drift in.
It’s been a while since we’ve had
this kind of rain,
a straight-down, soak-the-roots rain.
So I take my time,
drift into wakefulness,
drift into the kitchen for coffee,
drift into my easy chair,
sip from my steaming cup,
and watch a robin on the porch rail
letting the rain roll off his back.
Two squirrels sit atop the swingset,
their tails curved over their backs
like umbrellas.
A cardinal with water-darkened feathers
breakfasts from the feeder.
A chipmunk darts in and out
among a maze of flowerpots.
Black-eyed Susans turn fresh faces to the sky,
petals and leaves outstretched
as if saying, “Welcome, friend rain.
So good to see you.”
The morning wraps its comfort
around my cares
and cradles my concerns
so I can carry them quietly, calmly.
Welcome, friend rain.
So good to see you.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

The Sway of a Shadow

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I stepped into the shadow
of a tall coneflower today,
accidentally cutting into the dance
of light and dark,
sun and shade.
A me-shadow,
gray and blobbish,
blotted out the elegant outline
of stem and petal and leaf.
I quickly stepped aside.
The shadow swayed
a nod of thanks,
for she had only a few hours
to stretch herself
across the cedar-stained deck.
Already she was shrinking
as the sun climbed the sky.
She will wane to a nub at noon,
then lengthen
as the day drifts on,
until the sun sinks
and she melts into night.
It’s so human not to notice
when we overshadow something
or someone.
The coneflower reminds me
to step out of the way,
for the time is short,
and we are all invited
to cast our own shadow,
to create our own dance,
to show our own shape,
to recognize the ever-changing beauty
in each of us.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Somewhere Above

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Somewhere above the twilight clouds
there are stars.
Always stars.
Timeless stars.
When a spring evening like this,
cool and rainy,
paints overcast skies deep violet
and turns trees into ruffled silhouettes,
when the wine-red triangles
of burgundy shamrocks
take a hint from the fading light
and fold themselves like tiny umbrellas,
when the cat snuggles into my lap
for fur-soft cuddles,
then time itself seems to pause
for one last look
at the wondering, wandering world
at the close of day.
For one moment,
two,
three,
time holds its breath,
listens,
lingers.
And then,
soft as a sigh,
it drifts into night.
And somewhere above the clouds
there are stars.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

Pause and Perch

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Now that it’s full-on Spring,
it’s easy to see
what survived Winter’s ice storm
and what did not.
The old elms made it.
The heroic hackberries
and delicate dogwood did not.
Even the sturdy magnolia lost branches
and had to be trimmed back,
and one pine tree is now
only a tall, skinny snag.
Its floppy limbs,
unable to cradle the weight of ice,
snapped off, leaving a bare trunk
with a jagged top jutting toward the sky.
But it makes a perfect perch,
a landing place,
a scenic overlook,
a treetop rest stop
for a feathered flight,
a place to settle and soak up the sun.
The topmost snag in the magnolia
has been claimed by a mockingbird
as a stage for his heart-full songs
chirped at full volume.
I think he is telling me
to pause and perch on the snags,
those places broken by the weight of life
too heavy to hold.
Pause and perch, he says,
what is gone is gone,
but look at all that remains
green and growing.
Pause and perch on the snags
and sing at full volume
your heart-full songs of hope.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week – the snag:

Shadow of the week:

Carry the Calm

Karyn Henley

The Surprise of a Simple Morning Prayer

Silent Conversation

Wishes and Hopes

Spring’s Last Dance

Inside a Dusky Moment

A Moment of Footprints

Daydrift

The Sway of a Shadow

Somewhere Above

Pause and Perch