Month: April 2024

Full of the Secret

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Plump and round, brightly white,

the full moon smiled down

through my window.

I smiled back,

for I am also full—

full of peace veiled in soft moonglow,

full, too, of the secret we share,

the moon and I.

Maybe you share the secret too,

the secret of flipping the view.

Imagine the wonder of witnessing,

through a space-traveler’s eyes,

the turn-about’s-fair-play way

of gazing not at the moon

but at Earth,

of seeing not moonglow

but earthshine.

That is the secret:

the earth glows

just as the moon does.

Moonbeams drift down to Earth,

earthbeams drift up to the moon.

Full moon smiles down,

full Earth smiles up.

And the best part of the secret?

Maybe you didn’t know that you glow,

but you do, Earthling,

you do.

-kh-

 

 

If you want to read more about earthshine, here’s a link.

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 © 2024 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Painted with Joy

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Last night’s drenching rain has left

the morning air cooler,

peacefully breezy,

the sky flecked with drifts of cloud,

the earth dripping color—

brilliant yellows,

rich greens,

deep reds,

velvety blues—

a fresh day of spacious,

gracious spring

painted with the joy of re-creation.

A gray cat tiptoes

through regal irises,

around dogwood dressed in wedding white,

between coral azaleas

in a raindrop-sparkled garden.

The world is full of wonder

at its newborn self.

-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 © 2024 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

No Hurry, No Worry

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The elms are late-bloomers.

Maples, redbuds, tulip poplars,

even grandfather hackberry

show off their spring green leaves.

But the elms,

one in each corner of my back yard,

are still asleep.

My young neighbor says,

“I think they are dead.”

I squint and study the elms,

look them up and down

as if he might be right,

but I know he’s not.

Silhouetted against the morning sky,

their upreaching branches bear bumps of

leaves-to-be

and the faint sheen of

newborn green.

My elms bide their time.

No hurry.

No worry.

I imagine that’s their mantra,

their peaceful way of entering spring,

stretching and yawning,

catching a few more drowsy minutes.

These elms have seen seasons come and go

for at least as long as I have,

and they know the deep joy of

lingering

a moment

longer.

They know the deep peace of

unhurried progress,

the contentment of

being a

late bloomer.

– 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 © 2024 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Magical Moon

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The moon is magical,

always shifting,

always gifting a glow

not of her making.

She cools the sun’s burning blaze,

lets it sift

and drift peacefully

into our night.

But sometimes—

sweet celestial surprise—

she sails into our day.

Look! A child points.

Adults nod. Yes,

an afternoon moon, and—

did you know?—

at the peak of her power, she can

dim that bold sun,

block its light,

darken the day,

cool the earth,

hush birdsong,

shape rare shadows,

and gather the world’s watchers

who gasp and whisper

as the trickster makes the sun

disappear,

reminding us all that in the heavens,

she too can take center stage.

But a few hours are enough;

she is soon satisfied

and settles into her old habits,

tide-bringer,

love-teaser,

shape-changer

emptying herself,

filling up again, only to

pour herself out once more.

She is generous,

this elegant,

smiling,

powerful,

magical

moon.

– 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 © 2024 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.