Month: October 2026

I Know Nothing

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I know nothing except
the cat jumps into my lap every evening
and settles in,
purring as if all is right
in her cat-centric world.

I know nothing except
the feel of the pillow beneath my head
cushioning me,
holding me
for hours on end.

I know nothing except
the mockingbird has somehow decided
my yard is his,
and the rabbit that lives out back
has claimed what the mockingbird
has left open.

I know nothing except
the flavor of dark chocolate
still satisfies in a way that milk chocolate
doesn’t.

I know nothing except
my own heart this day
is full of roller-coaster feelings,
zig-zag and see-saw,
crest the hill,
careen down the other side,
and I know nothing except the fact
that I will hold on
and ride it as long as I possibly can.

Tomorrow, perhaps I will know something.
At least I may think I know something,
maybe something insignificant,
maybe something profound.
It happens sometimes
that I think I know.
And perhaps I do.

But today?
What do I know?
Nothing
except
I am breathing.
I am feeling.
I am here.
I am at peace.
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.

A Tiny Thing of Wonder

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The late afternoon sun
turns the spider web
at the corner of my window
a bright jewel-red.
As the sun eases down
and a gentle breeze drifts past,
the red web turns to spun gold.
Did you know, little spider,
that you were creating
a thing of wonder?
Of course not—you’ve made
what you were made to make,
what you were created to create:
a net for catching dinner
and breakfast and lunch.
You are a practical creature
and usually do your weaving work
unnoticed.
But then the sun found you.
For all your practicality, little spider,
you are weaving a wonder.
-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.

Home

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Home is where I return
for peace,
for contentment.
It’s a real place
with an address,
an aroma,
a pillow I call mine.
Yet, deep down, I know
that place is not permanent,
and if I go away
to someplace new
or old,
my house can’t uproot itself
and come with me.
And what if I don’t make it back?
Home—it’s a real place
with a real face,
but then again,
it’s more than that.
It’s where I go in my heart,
where I remember I’m okay,
where I settle
with my memories
my hopes,
my dreams,
my wondering, wandering thoughts.
Home is wherever I am,
where I pillow myself,
where, in my heart,
I’m content.
-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.

Air with a Wild Side

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A rainy morning,
a pottery mug,
steam rising, barely visible,
the aroma of toasty coffee.
I hold this cup of comfort,
admire the steam-drift
as liquid shape-shifts into cloud,
the aliveness of it
diffusing in a dance
undulating upward,
thinning until it vanishes
into the coolness of the room.
Even then its dance goes on,
for it’s the air around this fairy wisp
that directs the dance,
the always-moving air
that shifts it,
swirls it,
twirls it,
the same air with a wild side
that gusts and roars,
whirls and stirs
dust devils, hurricanes, tornadoes.
Through the window,
I watch today’s weather,
wind rocking branches,
scattering raindrops,
loosening autumn leaves,
and I realize it’s the wind I listen for,
the wind I want to feel,
the wind I want to befriend.
This morning it’s a tiny breath,
a whisper of breeze,
a hushed brush of wind
waltzing with the steam
that rises from my coffee
to calmly, quietly
start my day.
-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.

Stone Upon Stone

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Stone upon stone upon stone.
Under this courtyard,
someone laid the first stones
that were walked on and worn
until a new layer of stones was added
on top of the old,
which wore down just as the first layer did.
How many layers? I don’t know.
But at this moment
I stand atop all of them,
thinking of the stone-workers.
Someone set these stones just so,
these rough gray stones I’m standing on.
With backs bent, their fingers deftly fit
stone beside stone forming fan shapes.
One fan of stones shoulders into another,
curves arcing in different directions
putting movement into still, staid stones.
Lines fan out like water flowing,
like palm leaves waving,
like the skirts of twirling dancers.
Someone clever planned it.
Someone set these stones just so
on top of layers laid long ago.
I doubt that the stone-workers
could have ever dreamed me here
at this moment,
my feet where theirs walked,
my heart admiring their skill and hard work,
my thoughts turning to how all of us
pave paths that someone follows,
and never in our most daring dreams
can we dream the ones who come long after,
their feet walking where ours walked,
some admiring our skill and hard work,
others unaware but taking our path anyway.
Stone upon stone, stone upon stone.
Step lightly.
Step gratefully.
And leave a path to guide the way.
-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.