inspirational

What the Bee Sees

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Lean close to summer blooms—

peek into petunias,

dive deep into daylilies,

stare boldly at black-eyed Susans,

push past flashy petals

into the center,

the inner sanctum,

anthers and stamen,

tiny flying flags

or miniature stars

or prickly pillows

dusty with pollen,

maybe moist with the season’s

sweet dew.

This is what the bee must see

as he follows the path

of a petal’s dark veins

to settle headfirst,

to nestle inside

for a moment

or two.

The butterfly flicks

her curling, unfurling,

thread-thin tongue

to taste this splendor.

The ant tiptoes in,

humble on this holy ground,

this extravagant gift.

It’s our gift too

for the mere price

of a moment’s noticing.

Peek in.

Dive deep.

Lean close.

Stare boldly.

See what the bee sees.

– 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.

Quiet Eyes

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I will look at cliffs and clouds

with quiet eyes,

watch the wind blow down the grass,

and the grass rise.

– Edna St. Vincent Millay –

Wishing you a calm, peaceful holiday weekend.

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.

With a Flash of Wings

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You’re a topsy-turvy,

upside-down eater,

a sleek seeker of seeds,

my little nuthatch friend.

You cling tail up

to the green metal mesh

and poke around

for a sunflower seed,

but you find none

because I failed to fill the feeder.

By the time I bring my bag of seeds,

you have flown.

I unhook your empty pantry and

pour in a waterfall of seeds.

Rushing,

tumbling

sunflower grains,

shiny dark

speckled with white,

they pile up,

a feast for the feathered.

Before I can rehang the feeder,

you dash in

with a flash of wings,

and I freeze.

The feeder dangles from my fingers.

For a moment, you perch,

topsy-turvy, upside-down,

then snatch a snack

and dart away,

wings waving.

Sleek little beak-down clown,

you are brave to come so close.

Did you think I was a flower?

I’m wearing blossom pink—

not my favorite color,

but maybe yours?

Whatever you thought,

your presence was a compliment.

You made my heart glad,

and I thank you.

– 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.

At the Edge of My Coffee

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A tiny bubble

at the edge of my coffee

reflects my kitchen windows

in miniature,

a visual echo of daylight drifting in

on a cool, rainy day,

a calm take-your-time afternoon.

Peace comes in the wink of a bubble

at the edge

of my coffee

at the edge

of my thoughts

at the edge

of my hopes for the 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 © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Small, Daily Differences

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“We must not, in trying to think about how we can make a big difference, ignore the small daily differences we can make which, over time, add up to big differences that we often cannot foresee.” – Marian Wright Edelman

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.

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.