Silent Conversation

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:

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

Wishes and Hopes

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.

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

Spring’s Last Dance

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.

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

Inside a Dusky Moment

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.

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