Month: April 2023

The Geese Come Flying Low

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The geese come flying low this morning,

two of them skimming the treetops,

their crawnky call timed with the pulse of

wingbeats:

“Look, look!

Here, here!

Now, now!”

And I do.

Gray-white bellies buoyed by the breeze,

wide wings flapping,

long dark necks stretched out straight,

they’re the picture of persistence,

of determination,

of certainty.

They know where they’re going—

I’m guessing the zoo,

which is not so far if you’re airborne.

They will be guests

at a lucky gathering of geese on the lawn.

They’ll flock and strut and lunch

and gather goose gossip

and rise as a group at sunset,

free to thread their own way

back through the sky

to where they began,

calling,

“Look, look!

Here, here!

Now, now!”

And gone.

– kh –

 

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week – looking up:

Shadow of the Week:

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Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

One Glance

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One glance out the window was enough

to nudge me

to set aside the tomato I’d been washing.

After a muted day of low-bellied,

slow-drizzle clouds,

the setting sun had broken through

with a gold-green light

that drew me to step outside

into strands of straight-down sun-silvered rain.

And there it was,

as I’d sensed it would be,

arcing big and bright in the east,

bridging north and south on the horizon,

shimmering blue and indigo

vibrant violet,

brilliant green,

decadent red and orange,

bold yellow

in a bow framing the curve of the world

with an embrace of all that is,

a benediction of life

in all its glorious color and variety,

revelry for all the different ways of being,

all kinds of beauty,

all the paths to hope and joy and love

and peace,

sunset beaming through rain

with a parting, glorious gift

that could so easily have gone unseen,

but discovered in a chance glance

out the window.

One glance was enough

to set aside the tomato.

One glance was enough

to discover the prism’d gift

of a sunset in the rain.

– 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 © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

In The Realm of Inner Peace

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In the realm of inner peace

of deep, cleansing breath,

of heart and hope and holiness

of the spirit’s table set for welcome,

in this realm of inner peace,

the weather is not constant

but ebbs and flows like waves of the sea,

like the drift and rush of wind,

unseen and elusive,

now whispering with joy,

now howling with grief,

weaving each together in a swirl

of uncertainty,

breathing life into our fragile frames,

humming wholeness into our startled hearts,

returning us to the settled sureness

of in-breath and out-breath,

the steady beat of life.

In the realm of inner peace,

of the momentous moment,

ordinary or extraordinary,

witty or wary,

of questions held gingerly,

answers held loosely,

in this realm of inner peace

two rivers flow,

one tumbling incautiously over stones

gray with pain,

one smooth and rippling,

easing its way with glints of courage,

fresh vision,

and quenching calm.

These two rivers often run side by side,

one splashing into the other

before joining and sharing their waters.

We dip cupped hands in and drink

and bathe our spirits in both.

We laugh.

We weep.

We find our own way through the rapids

and into pools of momentary stillness

before we journey on.

For this is the way,

the path,

the course of life.

There is no map.

But listen.

Listen to the wind.

Follow the flow of the two rivers.

For here in this realm,

there is inner peace,

and the table is always spread

for welcome.

– 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 © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Caught by Surprise

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On the way to the kitchen,

two steps past the dining room window,

I pause.

I had barely glanced outside in passing,

having already witnessed the scene of early spring—

hackberries still bare-branched from winter,

the dogwood’s gray limbs holding up leaf buds

like tiny green candle flames,

the rust colored, dried blooms of a rhododendron

that flowered too early and froze back into fall colors.

It was a flash of pink that caught me by surprise.

Pink?

I step back to the window

for a second look.

A newly planted azalea peers back at me,

low and close to the mulched garden

in my neighbor’s yard.

And very pink.

I wasn’t expecting pink.

Winter was so raw,

so kill-the-plants frigid

that I’ve been intent on discovering what survived.

Bit by bit, life was revealing itself—

Lenten roses in holy white,

daffodils and forsythia in sun-kissed yellow,

violets gowned in deep, regal purple,

Nature’s parade of spring fashion.

Yes, these I knew.

These, I had seen.

But now this fancy, frilly pink azalea

waves in the wind and fairly shouts,

“Look at me!”

And, of course, I do,

marveling at the appearance of this cheeky pink plant

flaunting herself,

loud and bright,

proud in my neighbor’s garden,

and worth a second look.

So of course, I do,

and I will,

again and again

until the whole neighborhood

is alive with spring.

– 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 © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.