Early Birds

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Birdsong begins in my yard at 3:45.
In the morning.
The birds remind me of this fact
when I sleep with windows open.
Night bugs have hummed me to sleep,
birdsong greets me when I wake—
or when it wakes me
in the wee hours.
This morning,
a mockingbird on some nearby perch
commenced his concert at 4:00.
He ran through his repertoire
interspersing chirps and chirrs
with fancy fluting phrases
rising and dipping and dancing.
But it’s early.
I glance at my clock.
Very early.
Are these birds singing in their sleep?
Or summoning the sunrise?
Or maybe the first hint of dawn
is already drifting into the sky
and summoning them.
If the early bird catches the worm,
these warblers will be well-fed.
Maybe this is their prayer before breakfast.
Maybe they are singing in pure joy
at the bounty, the beauty, the blessing
of simply being,
being a flying, perching, singing soul
here to see the sun circle
one more day.
I lie back, pillowed and peaceful,
listening and grateful.
As the mockingbird’s melodies
melt into morning,
I let him sing me back to sleep.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:


Shadow of the week:

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

Trading my Why

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Why does the sun shine?
Why does the moon glow?
Why do stars twinkle?
Why does the bluebird need
a nesting hole just the right size,
no smaller, no larger?
I grew up as a why girl asking—
mostly in silence—
a shy why, why, why?
In all my grown-up years,
raising children of my own,
my why grew boldly curious.
We set about searching for answers.
But these days, I find I’m changing.
Oh, I know there are reasons,
answers to a thousand why’s,
and the reasons can be fascinating,
but in the end,
I don’t need the shy why
or the bold why.
I need only an open heart
welcoming wonder,
admitting awe,
diving deeply into childlike delight,
receiving the simple gifts of
starshine,
moonglow,
sunrise,
sunset,
bluebird building a nest in the bird box,
robin splashing in a puddle,
cat napping,
trees and breeze and budding blooms,
and the cheery tunes of the mockingbird.
Why?
That’s for my younger friends to ask—
and I say, ask away.
Shy or bold, ask.
As for me,
I’m trading my Why for Wonder.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:


Shadow of the week:

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

Above the Backyard World

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A robin sits at the summit
of the garage next door,
peers out from the peak
as if he is the sentinel,
the lookout,
the guardian
of bird world.
He looks left and right,
bobs his head,
preens his flight feathers,
scans the backyard scene again.
He’s a living roof ornament,
his plump rust-orange belly topping off
the brown-shingled A-line roof
and tan stucco walls
as if some designer had chosen him,
exactly him,
and carefully placed him there.
And perhaps some Designer did.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:


Shadow of the week:

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

A World That Says Yes

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Six geese fly east,
warm wind whistles through screens,
trees wave their newborn leaves
greeting Spring.
I sometimes ask
what my word for today is,
not knowing what the day will bring
but making meaning of my time,
perhaps a theme,
a purposeful dream to bring
to the mix of me and the circling seasons.
This morning one word dances
through my head into my heart:
Gratitude.
For a world that says yes
to being reborn,
for joy enough to outbalance sadness,
for beauty enough to outweigh decay,
for life enough to outlast death.
What was invisible in bare Winter
was slowly growing all along,
roots and shoots,
preserved, protected,
patient, persistent,
each day easing toward renewal,
bringing this wisdom, ages old:
Because the seeds have been planted,
there is always, always
the hope of love,
the return of joy,
the presence of peace.
Life feels so fragile,
yet life persists.
There is always a tomorrow
to hold our hopes,
to carry what we care about,
a tomorrow that soon enough
becomes today
when six geese fly east,
warm wind whistles through screens,
and trees wave their newborn leaves.
Hello, says Spring.
Hello, I say.
Thank you.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:


Shadow of the week:

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

The Twin Suns

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Early morning sun rays drift through fog,
shy of the sky today,
sleepily sweeping aside the filmy veil
to make way for the day
and wash it with light.
Warm sunbeams now angle through east windows
and wander out the west
only to bounce back in,
mirrored from my neighbor’s window
in a perfect round reflection.
It looks like the sun has stopped
to rest in their kitchen.
The light from these twin suns, east and west,
meet at my double-paned windows,
play off each other,
splash reflections across the glass
in geometric patterns—
scooped-topped squares,
skewed rectangles,
swooping ribbons,
sword-straight lines.
There are reflections of shadows
and shadows of reflections.
Both are close kin.
Both are the artistry of light.
Both are shifting shapes,
fascinating, frivolous,
flirting, fleeting.
Quick! Look!
Here I am.
Hello!
Farewell.
Here and gone,
this one moment of golden glory,
has left its reflection in my heart,
has poured its light into my soul,
has wrapped its bright arms
around my inner shadow
like Love itself.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:


Shadow of the week:

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

A Blank Piece of Paper

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Smooth and inviting,
full of potential,
here sits a pristine piece of paper,
generously blank,
an open field,
an open window,
an empty space patiently waiting
for me.
So where do I start?
Where is my heart?
I see so many possibilities.
Write? Paint? Draw?
A splash? A dash?
Elegant? Edgy?
And if I dare to make my mark,
if I dare to share myself
with this page, this paper,
this wide open future,
the possibilities narrow.
Each mark means making a choice.
A mark is a visible voice,
a stake,
a statement:
this way, not that.
It says, “You have found me;
Now work around me.”
Blank.
This paper is still blank.
I hesitate, lost in “what if?”
What will it become?
How will it turn out?
A wise woman once told me,
“If you know how it’s going to turn out,
why bother?”
There is adventure in the blank page.
Its invitation is to discover,
to make possible the possibilities,
to make known what’s unknown,
to create out of curiosity,
to encounter what never existed
before that first mark,
that first spark,
that daring decision to dance
with the blank page.
Smooth and inviting,
full of potential,
here sits a pristine piece of paper,
generously blank.
But not for long.
-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.
Text and photos © Karyn Henley 2026. All rights reserved.

What Song Will Be First?

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Dawn today comes soft and cotton-quiet,
spaciously silent but not empty,
brimming with the pulse of simply being,
a sentient serenity
flowing with what is,
buoyant with what could be.
I wonder what sound, what song
will be the first to find its way
into the fullness of this silence.
This morning, it’s the purr of a jet
flying west, fading fast,
followed by the hum of a distant train.
A bird begins chanting on repeat,
five sharp chirps sung again and again.
Now a bright bong of a song
calls out from a bell tower,
eight straight, measured, solemn tones.
I think of a poet I heard last night, who,
after reading her work said,
“Thank you for sharing this space with me.”
I thank the bell in the tower
for sharing this morning space with me.
Thank you, little bird
and distant train.
Thank you, jet flying west.
Thank you for being part of my morning.
Thank you for sharing this space with me.
And of course, there you are reader,
listening in all this time.
Thank you for sharing this space with me.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:


Shadow of the week:

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

For the Price of a Pause

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Spring tiptoed in during the night.
I didn’t expect her so soon.
Winter may yet wave
a final icy farewell,
but today the air hums with Spring,
and I have paused my plans
to revel in her return,
to wonder at the newborn world.
Daffodils dance in a drowsy flowerbed.
Tiny purple blooms run wild in the grass.
Pear trees show off snowy white blossoms.
Lenten roses raise their faces, blushing.
Above in barely budding trees,
birds chatter and cheer and
sing welcome
as if they’ve been secretly saving,
all winter long,
this exact song
for this exact moment.
The breeze, mild and gusty,
flirts with the flowers,
ruffles the robin’s feathers,
whispers to the bluebird
a hint of rain to come.
I marvel at Nature’s generosity.
For the simple price of a pause,
she pours out to me more than I can hold—
seasonal symphonies of sound and song,
an ever-changing gallery of shifting colors,
shapes and shadows
coming and going and coming again,
all mine to see, to hear,
to hold in my heart,
all for the price of a pause.
-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.
Text and photos © Karyn Henley 2026. All rights reserved.

Windows and Wings

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Surfacing from the depths of dream
in the middle of the night,
I find my mind replaying
a difficult day,
rewinding, reminding.
All I want to do is turn over,
return to sleep.
Instead, I walk the edge of wakefulness
wishing to will myself into slumber,
but my mind hums,
will not will itself
to leave life alone for a while.
At last, I ease open my eyes.
There on my night-gray ceiling
are two splashes of light
from my neighbor’s yard,
filtered through my window
and stretching above me,
skewed and angled,
softly crossing
like stylized wings
painted protectively overhead.
Windows have become wings,
and that feels just right,
for windows are wings for me.
By day, by night,
windows set my soul to flight,
open me to the dancing expanse
of wonder and hope
that lies beyond
and beyond the beyond.
My eyes drift closed.
Grateful for windows,
grateful for wings,
I settle once more
into sleep.
-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.
Text and photos © Karyn Henley 2026. All rights reserved.

I Looked for the Moon

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I looked for the moon tonight,
wanting to find this faithful friend
who’s currently a waxing crescent.
I wanted to admire her curve,
contemplate the stars beyond,
feel the wonder of time
stretched
into eternity.
I wanted to sit with her serenity awhile.
But the night sky is crowded with clouds
reflecting city-shine,
making the darkness nightlight-soft,
vanishing the vastness of deep space
and disappearing the moon.
Still, the moon is in her place
up in the cold silence
and still, I am in my place
down in the warm hope of home.
The moon is so ancient
she will not remember me.
But I remember her.
I close my eyes, see all her moods,
her shifts and shapes
from plump and playful
to a bright bowl pouring out stars
to a slim curving thread of possibility.
I see all her colors,
her brilliant bride-white joy,
her reddened omen eye,
her haloed softness,
her rising orange-gold bravado.
Sometimes she’s a sky-sailing galleon,
sometimes a pale canoe
caught in the branches of a tree.
I looked for the moon tonight
and found her in my heart.
-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.
Text and photos © Karyn Henley 2026. All rights reserved.