Tide In, Tide Out

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

A pod of pelicans,
five in all,
flap low across the sandy beach,
following the flow of the whispering wind,
their long beaks pointing
like a compass arrow
to some destination they know
and I don’t.
Gentle waves from a deep blue horizon
ripple toward the shore,
split into broken lines of sea green,
sparkle in the hot sun,
and splash into soft white foam
on a white sand beach
that rises into a swoop of dunes
topped by tall sea grasses
overseen by the easy drift
of a lone dragonfly.
No rush say the waves
and the swaying seagrass.
No rush says the drifting dragonfly.
All in good time.
Sea and beach,
beach and sea,
speaking wisdom in the rush
and the hush
and the shush
of an age-old voice
twinned with the wind
in a pulse of purpose,
in a dance of chance,
tide in,
tide out,
a rhythm sure and steady—
as sure and steady as the flow
of meditation.
Deep breath in,
deep breath out,
tide and time are made of this.
We ebb out
to family, to friends, to the world,
then wash back up
onto the shore of ourselves,
sometimes storming in,
crashing, breaking, swamping,
sometimes gentling into a soft wash,
bubbling with contentment and hope,
pulsing with purpose,
dancing with chance,
we and the wind and the waves.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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Text and photos © Karyn Henley 2026. All rights reserved.

That Bug!

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

That bug!
That bug armored in black,
beetling across the tv screen
then taking off like a little bomber.
That bug!
That bug!
Some call it a stink bug.
Don’t squash it, they say;
it will smell.
Some call it an assassin bug.
What does it assassinate?
I wonder as I duck.
That bug!
That bug armored in black,
now creeping up the wall.
I creep, too,
closer,
closer,
cup my hand,
swoop and scoop it up.
Am I now the assassin?
I feel its legs
tickling my palm.
This bug doesn’t bite or sting.
I feel sorry for it.
It’s lost in this living room,
which could become a dying room
for a bug deceived
by the light of a flat screen.
I step outside and fling it up
toward starlight.
Assassin or stink bug or blackish beetle,
it zips off into the night air,
and I hope it finds its way.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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Wildflowers

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

As my neighbor tells it, every morning
from an upstairs window,
her young daughter looks down
on my wildflower garden below.
If she were in my yard looking up,
the wildflowers would be twice her height,
but from her view, she can see
all their friendly faces smiling up at her—
white, red, and magenta cosmos,
blue cornflowers,
lemon yellow and bright orange marigolds,
zinnias in every shade of pink.
On thin stems among foxtails and bristle grass,
the wildflowers sway and bow
and nod to every passing breeze.
They beckon to butterflies and bees
and lightly scent the air with their wildness.
I’d like to tell my little neighbor
that they bloom just for her.
In a sense, I guess they do,
for they fill her child’s-eye view
with their gift of gladness.
They greet her each dawn,
welcome her to the delights of a day
almost as young as she is.
It’s as if they know that she, too,
will bloom and grow
and grace the world
with her own wild wonder.
But I know that wildflowers bloom
not for her,
not for me,
not even for butterflies and bees.
They bloom because that’s who they are;
that’s what they do,
and we are the lucky ones
who get to see them.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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:

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